Swap — If You Can't Handle the Heat — Sin Bin
Showing posts with label mf. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mf. Show all posts
Tuesday, 12 March 2024
Release Blitz : Not That Kind of Witch - by Lucy Felthouse @cw1985 #contemporaryromance #romance #steamyromance
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Sunday, 27 May 2018
New Release - To My Muse - by Nicola M. Cameron @YesItsNicolaC #RomanticComedy
Ever do something really, really dumb?
When too much tequila and an enabling BFF put Lily Nayar's romance novel Feast of Lovers into the hands of its inspiration, sexy British actor Tom Morrison, Lily is horrified. Now she's determined to get her book back, even if that means breaking into Tom's hotel room to do it.
With the help of a strategic lie and a charismatic knight, Lily's screwball plan catapults her into the middle of her very own Cinderella story, Hollywood style. But will a vengeful actress ruin Lily's shot at a real life HEA with Tom?
Contemporary romance, romantic comedy, MF
Word Count: 67,000
Heat Level 2
Published By: Belaurient Press
Of course, the fangirl part of my brain was screeching like a gibbon at me that I was in Tom Morrison’s hotel room. He’d slept in that very bed last night. Sat at that desk to check his email and Facebook. Took a dump behind the closed door of what I assumed was the bathroom. The prosaic nature of that last bit helped me regain some self-control, and I tiptoed (why, I don’t know, I’m an idiot) over to the desk. There was what looked like a script for GearShifter on it, as well as a MacBook Pro, but no Feast of Lovers. Bad Tom, no leaving your expensive computer equipment out where people can steal it.
I wanted to leaf through the script so badly, but I ignored it and kept looking for Feast. Not on the desk top, not on the dresser, not on the TV. I was starting to worry that he’d taken it with him to the location when I noticed the suitcase. I truly, honestly hated the idea of going through his personal stuff, but he might have stuck it in there. I could just lift the lid, take a peek, maybe it was in plain sight—
I had the lid in hand when the bathroom door swung open and a tall, beautiful blonde in a towel strutted out. “I thought I heard you—” she purred, before she saw me. Both face and tone iced over. “Who the hell are you?”
I let out a noise that could have been used as a sound effect for a creaking vault door. The blonde stalked closer, looming over me. Up close, I could see some fine lines around her eyes, but she was still ridiculously gorgeous. “What are you doing here?” she snapped.
Oh. Oh, shit. My brain informed me that I was currently sharing a room with Claudine Ellery, the actress playing Tom’s antagonist/love interest on the show. What the hell was she doing in his bathroom? Were they dating in real life? Why was I asking stupid questions when I should be turning and running for my freaking life?
And then Fate decided that she needed an even bigger chuckle because the room door opened and Tom Morrison walked in. I caught a glimpse of an apologetic Theresa hovering in the hallway before she was eclipsed by Tom, who was staring at Claudine and me.
Oh, God. He was even better looking in person. Not all actors are, but Tom—he was edible. Curly black hair, eyes the color of dark chocolate, and lips that I’d wanted to kiss since the first time I saw him on screen. With faded jeans that fit him perfectly, a dusty white button-down with rolled up sleeves, just the right amount of chest hair peeping out of his collar, and the cutest smudge of dust across one laser-sharp cheekbone, he was every one of my fantasies come to warm, tall life right in front of me.
And I had broken into his hotel room.
That was it. I was going to jail, assuming that the cops didn’t just see “brown person” and shoot me when they got here. At the very least I’d get fired from Golden State. Mom and Dad would disown me, Dada and Dadi would die of shame, and Derek would probably take out an ad in the LA Times saying that I was adopted. My only hope was that Theresa had gotten the hell out of here. There was no reason for both of us to go down for my stupidity—
“Lilian, darling, what are you doing here?”
My brain skidded to a halt. Words had come out of Tom Morrison’s mouth. Friendly words. While he was staring directly at me. Looking, if I may say so, as if he was talking to someone he knew. Which he didn’t, because I may not have remembered sending him my book but I would definitely remember meeting him.
“Um. Hi?” I waved weakly.
“I thought you decided not to come out this weekend.” He crossed to me, slipping an arm around my shoulders as he stared at Claudine. He squeezed my shoulder once, kind of hard, then did it again.
Even with my brain in fangirl vapor lock I can take a hint. I had no idea how he knew who I was, but he wanted me to play along. Plastering a grin on my face, I slipped my arm around his waist and squeezed back. His torso felt like warm rock, and he smelled so good.
“Well, I figured I needed a road trip,” I extemporized, giving him a bright smile. “And I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Not at all, angel,” he purred. Up close, I could see a hint of relief in his eyes. It disappeared as he turned to Claudine. “Claud, why are you in my room wearing a towel?” he asked politely.
She planted hands on slim hips, cocking her head to the side. “Seriously? You have to ask why?”
“Yes, because if I remember correctly, I told you that I had no interest in going to bed with you. In fact, I’m quite sure I informed you of this on numerous occasions. And when I walk into my hotel room and see you wearing nothing but terrycloth while my girlfriend,” this time his squeeze was gentle, “is standing there looking gobsmacked, I have to wonder what the actual fuck you’re up to.”
My face went rigid as it tried to hold onto my smile. Girlfriend? Eeeeeeeee…
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Smashwords | iTunes | Print
Despite a healthy interest in romance and sex since puberty, it wasn't until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to speculative romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture...).
Friday, 25 May 2018
New Release: Meg’s Folly - by Adriana Kraft @adrianakraft @extasybooks #eroticromance #LGBT #multiplepartners
I'm delighted to welcome back the dynamic duo, Adriana Kraft. Enjoy!
When we first started writing about Meg, we set out to write a one-shot erotic romp. We had in mind a vague plot idea to provide a structure for some spicy sex scenes—what if there was a young, vibrant, bisexual modern-day Aphrodite who brought couples together by having sex with them? So we invented (we thought) Meghan Keenan to fill the role. Characters have a way of taking over, though, and Meg wasn’t satisfied with just being a piece of fluff having hot sex scenes. The series quickly developed, tracking her adventures through her twenties.
But all good things must come to an end – well, sort of. Readers who’ve been following Meg’s adventures in this series know how much Meg loves to bring couples together by sharing herself with both parties. Being a matchmaker is her calling, and she never planned to stop or settle down. Now she’s nearly thirty. What kind of happy ending would you write for her?
Meg’s Folly, the final book in our Meghan’s Playhouse series, released at Extasy Books Friday May 4. We hate saying goodbye to her, but we think we’ve crafted the only “happy ending” she’d be even remotely interested in. It’s been a rough road from here to there – but oh, what a ride!
When Meghan Keenan’s old flame Clark Hendricks unexpectedly shows up at the Summer Shakespeare Festival where she has a leading role, Meg has a brilliant inspiration: he’ll be perfect for Camila, the hot Latina who currently shares Meg’s bed. If Meg’s scheme works, she can continue to enjoy sexy escapades with both of them.
Clark has a different idea. He’s come to the Festival with one goal in mind: to marry Meg. Will Camila buy into the plan and help him spark Meg’s jealousy? Can Clark escape this tempting triangle unscathed? And if he does, can he claim his would-be bride before she flees in panic?
BOOK INFORMATION
Meg’s Folly
Meghan’s Playhouse: Book Six
Erotic romance novel: 41,000 words
Extasy Books: May 4, 2018
Five Flames: Explicit sex: M/F, F/F; Ménage: M/F/F, M/F/M; four way; multiple partners
“My bed is already crowded.” Meg Keenan gave Clark Hendricks, her longtime friend and sometimes lover, a smile calculated to pique his interest. That he’d arrived at the Summer Shakespeare Festival wasn’t exactly a surprise—even though he wasn’t directing his contemporary comedy, he had written it. But it would’ve been good of him to let her know he was coming out. Last she’d heard, he was still ensconced in a theater guild in London. If she’d known, she might’ve planned a surprise or two. Meg always enjoyed surprising Clark. She inhaled sharply. Maybe she did have a surprise for him.
“I wouldn’t expect otherwise,” Clark said, his mouth widening into a grin. “I can’t remember you ever being without at least one partner. How many this time? What gender or genders?”
“I’ll always make room for you, Clark.” Meg sighed and squeezed Clark’s knee. They sat on the grass in the Green Show area where she’d been rehearsing a routine. Spying Clark leaning against a shade tree waiting for her had seemed quite natural. “It feels like you’ve hardly been away.”
“It’s been nearly eighteen months,” he said, taking her hand in his. “You could do better with e-mail.” Clark chuckled. “I was pleased to hear you had the lead here for the summer. Josette and Zach send their love. She tells me she’s trying to get you to join her theater workshop as a full partner. That’s quite the opportunity.”
“I know.” Meg winced. “I’m not sure I want to. That much responsibility might tie me down too much.”
Clark’s eyes sparkled. “When I was your pirate on the cruise ship, you didn’t mind being tied down.”
Our erotic romance is edgier and nearly always includes ménage or polyamory. A man, a woman (or two), or another man, threesomes, foursomes, what’s your fantasy? We write our Erotic Romance stories to entertain, of course, but most of all we write them because we believe in happy endings for all who fall in love, whatever their gender, sexual orientation or numerical combination. Here you’ll find multiple partners, three-way, four-way and more, swing lifestyle, lesbian, bisexual, ménage and polyamory, in both contemporary and paranormal settings: “scorching hot…refreshing...something to read when you want straight up hotness” (Long and Short Reviews)
Together we have published more than forty romance novels and novellas to outstanding reviews. We love hearing from readers at adrianakraft99@yahoo.com, and here is our website: When It’s Time to Heat Things Up http://adrianakraft.com
Saturday, 7 April 2018
If you like a little variety with your paranormal, you might enjoy the Lustful Possession Series AND it's On Sale
What better time to give this haunting series a try
The saga that breaks all the romance rules—well a good many of them anyway 😉
This saga won't appeal to everyone. For readers who read strictly m/m or strictly m/f, you might want to stay clear. But for readers, like me, who will read anything, this series has a bit of everything. For the most part, it is dark paranormal erotic, but it incorporates several sub-genres throughout, from contemporary to historical time-travel, at times verging on horror. It contains both male/male and male/female relationships, but again be forewarned there is an m/m/m encounter, plus some f/f and m/f/f activity.
If you like a little variety with your paranormal, you might enjoy the Lustful Possession Series
This story was previously published. It has been re-edited, re-formatted and re-released.
Warning: This collection of short stories contains m/f and m/m couplings and cliff-hangers. Installments must be read in order.
Here is a quick run-down of the stories in order along with sub-genres and pairings:
Travel through time & unravel the mystery of Cairnnon Castle
Meet the O'Cairnnon's — a fate most do not survive!
Part 1 - Meet Me in the Dark
(m/f, paranormal, erotic, contemporary, ghosts, possession)
Part 2 - Dark Foursome
(m/f, paranormal, erotic, contemporary, ghosts, possession)
Part 3 - The Fall of Cairnnon Castle
(m/f, time-travel, historical, paranormal, dark erotic, verging on horror)
Part 4 - Rising From the Darkness
(m/m, paranormal, erotic, contemporary)
AND COMING SOON...
Part 5 - Dark Seed - Releasing April 6
(paranormal, erotic, contemporary, m/f story with m/m interaction)
Part 6 - Bending Darkness
(m/f, paranormal, erotic, time-travel, historical, demons)
And Part 7 the stunning conclusion - Dark Defeat
(paranormal, dark erotic, time-travel, historical, demons, an m/f story with f/f and m/f/f interaction)
Part 6 - Bending Darkness
(m/f, paranormal, erotic, time-travel, historical, demons)
And Part 7 the stunning conclusion - Dark Defeat
(paranormal, dark erotic, time-travel, historical, demons, an m/f story with f/f and m/f/f interaction)
Buy Link
On Sale Now at eXtasy Books until April 15th
H K Carlton's other books at eXtasy
Also on Sale
Also on Sale
The Always Cambridge Series chronicles the life of Holly Cambridge through her tumultuous childhood, violent teen years, into adulthood, and the consequences that stem from being the daughter of mob boss, Bill Cambridge.
Caught up in a bitter blood feud with the rival Mayhue family and unable to bear the violence that claimed her mother, Holly sets out to right her father's wrongs. But instead she embarks on an epic journey of sex, love, loss, tragedy and life-altering choices that not only impact her life but that of her beloved bodyguard, Randy Phillips; unsuspecting Federal Agent, Alex Orton; and surprisingly of all, Victor Mayhue, a member of the reviled Mayhue clan.
Can Holly distance herself and the ones she loves, from the violence and corruption she abhors, or will she discover a truth she's feared all along... Mob life is forever!
Caught up in a bitter blood feud with the rival Mayhue family and unable to bear the violence that claimed her mother, Holly sets out to right her father's wrongs. But instead she embarks on an epic journey of sex, love, loss, tragedy and life-altering choices that not only impact her life but that of her beloved bodyguard, Randy Phillips; unsuspecting Federal Agent, Alex Orton; and surprisingly of all, Victor Mayhue, a member of the reviled Mayhue clan.
Can Holly distance herself and the ones she loves, from the violence and corruption she abhors, or will she discover a truth she's feared all along... Mob life is forever!
Buy Link:
Also at eX
(gay-for-you, erotica, mm)
(gay-for-you, erotica, mm)
(m/f, mild bdsm, erotic, romance
(m/f, spouse-swapping, erotica)
Sunday, 7 January 2018
New Release! Vows: Asian Adventures #3 by Lisabet Sarai #multicultural #erotic #romance
New Release!
Vows:
Asian Adventures Book 3
by
Lisabet Sarai
Contemporary multicultural bisexual erotic romance (X rated)
7,400 words
Smashwords and Amazon KDP
ISBN: 9781370254026 (Smashwords)
ASIN:
HFN ending
Travel brings out a strange recklessness in my wife, a hunger for extremes that I don’t see when we’re in New York. I would never have acted on my desire for male flesh if she hadn’t bullied me into my first homosexual encounter. Not that I regret it. I’ll never forget that incandescent night with the audacious young punk she bought for me in Amsterdam.
Now, she wants us to seduce the achingly beautiful Buddhist monk we’ve met in Luang Prabang. I try to reject her suggestions, to resist temptation. But I can’t banish the images of Souvannaphone— ripe lips curved in a half-smile, brown eyes sparkling with gentle challenge, smooth curves of golden flesh that cry out to be kissed. I yearn for his body—and his serenity.
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B078LKFC9R/
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B078LKFC9R/
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/771439
X-Rated
Dani was still stroking my penis surreptitiously as the boat pulled up to the public dock. “Why don’t we go back to the hotel? We can—talk—about our new friend.” She paid the boatman, and handed me my straw hat, which I used to hide my raging erection as we strolled the few blocks back to our guest house. I barely had time to close the door and slip out of my sandals before Dani was down on her knees in front of me, undoing my fly.
Here in the privacy of our room, I didn’t object. I was painfully hard; it seemed as though the taut skin sheathing my organ would burst at the slightest touch. Danielle squeezed. I could scarcely bear it. She gazed up at me, mischief in her hazel eyes. “Pretend that it’s him, sucking you,” she murmured. Then she swallowed me whole.
Her mouth was a steaming tropical jungle, her muscular tongue a snake twining around me. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to sink into pure sensation.
After five years with me, she knew how to give me what I liked—languorous strokes from base to tip alternating with energetic sucking that must have left her jaw sore, but which brought me to the edge again and again. I filled my mind with images of her: the ginger thatch of her pubis matching the fringe on her head; the slick folds hidden among those curls; her palm-sized breasts with their extravagant nipples; her lively, intelligent, sometimes mocking face. I imagined that she was stroking herself as she worked on me. That might well be true. I remembered her wild, almost inhuman expression when she came.
But as she brought me inexorably closer to orgasm, these images slipped away, though I tried to hold on to them. Instead, I saw a pair of ripe lips curved in a half-smile, brown eyes sparkling with gentle challenge, smooth curves of golden flesh that cried out to be kissed. I imagined bare feet, muscular buttocks, a slim cock rearing like a rod of ivory, hairless and pure. She was broadcasting these images to me, I knew it, but that didn’t help me to resist. My desperate moan was part guilt, part overwhelming arousal. I saw a cloud of saffron-hued fabric drifting down, covering twined limbs, white and honey-colored, and I spilled myself into Danielle’s greedy mouth.
Here in the privacy of our room, I didn’t object. I was painfully hard; it seemed as though the taut skin sheathing my organ would burst at the slightest touch. Danielle squeezed. I could scarcely bear it. She gazed up at me, mischief in her hazel eyes. “Pretend that it’s him, sucking you,” she murmured. Then she swallowed me whole.
Her mouth was a steaming tropical jungle, her muscular tongue a snake twining around me. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to sink into pure sensation.
After five years with me, she knew how to give me what I liked—languorous strokes from base to tip alternating with energetic sucking that must have left her jaw sore, but which brought me to the edge again and again. I filled my mind with images of her: the ginger thatch of her pubis matching the fringe on her head; the slick folds hidden among those curls; her palm-sized breasts with their extravagant nipples; her lively, intelligent, sometimes mocking face. I imagined that she was stroking herself as she worked on me. That might well be true. I remembered her wild, almost inhuman expression when she came.
But as she brought me inexorably closer to orgasm, these images slipped away, though I tried to hold on to them. Instead, I saw a pair of ripe lips curved in a half-smile, brown eyes sparkling with gentle challenge, smooth curves of golden flesh that cried out to be kissed. I imagined bare feet, muscular buttocks, a slim cock rearing like a rod of ivory, hairless and pure. She was broadcasting these images to me, I knew it, but that didn’t help me to resist. My desperate moan was part guilt, part overwhelming arousal. I saw a cloud of saffron-hued fabric drifting down, covering twined limbs, white and honey-colored, and I spilled myself into Danielle’s greedy mouth.
You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter. Sign up for her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh
Sunday, 7 February 2016
New Release #historical #romance Bombers Moon by @RavenMcAllan @evernightpub
Please welcome back the lovely Raven McAllan with new historical romance, Bombers Moon
Who gets caught by the man of her dreams bare-assed and halfway up a wall? Lady Chrissie Stride, of course.
It’s just her luck that she encounters Baronet Archie Duggan. On top of that, the house her London employers requisitioned to keep its staff safe from The Blitz is locked. Climbing the wall seemed like a good idea, until Archie turns up. At least he doesn’t seem to know it's her.
Archie recognizes Chrissie almost immediately. He never expected to meet her again in deepest Northamptonshire. This time around he is determined to claim the woman he loved and lost. With the war on, priorities change, and love is too important to conform to niceties.
Will the star-crossed lovers finally find their happily ever after?
I never thought, as a child and asking my mum, dad, gran (known as nan) and aunts to ‘tell me a story about the war’, that all these years later, I’d still remember those stories and use them as the basis for a book.
I’m so glad I did.
When I first had the idea for Bombers Moon, I just knew it would be set in Northamptonshire, where my mum as a teen was evacuated to, with her employment.
As much as the idea of a book set in London, in the blitz intrigued me, all mum ever said was ‘it was scary noisy and as your granddad worked for the railways we got out own railway employees and families tube station to hide in’.
Then I remembered the tales of Northamptonshire. Of being locked out, getting stuck up a wall, although not knickerless—well I don’t think so wink. How they used charcoal or gravy browning to put ‘stocking seams’ up their legs, and bought wooden clogs and clacked around the draught old stone-floored manor house they lived and worked in. The older ladies who worked with them, got so sick of the racket, they clubbed together and bought my mum and her friend a pair of slippers each.
My aunt went out with a yank (as all American service men evidently were called) another relative fell off her bike and was rescued by a farmer and evidently mum did dance with the local lord of the manor.
Thus, Bombers Moon was born.
It’s just her luck that she encounters Baronet Archie Duggan. On top of that, the house her London employers requisitioned to keep its staff safe from The Blitz is locked. Climbing the wall seemed like a good idea, until Archie turns up. At least he doesn’t seem to know it's her.
Archie recognizes Chrissie almost immediately. He never expected to meet her again in deepest Northamptonshire. This time around he is determined to claim the woman he loved and lost. With the war on, priorities change, and love is too important to conform to niceties.
Will the star-crossed lovers finally find their happily ever after?
a wee tease…
Chrissie gulped. He was big—everywhere. She looked downward, her vision drawn to his long thick cock, which stood out proudly from its nest of hair. She averted her eyes from the crisscross of scars on his leg and arm. Those she understood, he neither wanted to think or talk about just then.
And that’s going to fit in my daffodil? The euphemism used by so many of her friends seemed silly now, but there was no way she could use the words she heard bandied about so freely in the pub or by the older women at work.
Honey pot! That’s it. Merle’s expression came to her. My honey pot! Or Pussy. Okay I can live with that, but…cu… She couldn’t even think the word.
She looked at his body with frank regard. Who knew if she’d ever get a chance to see him like this again? Out of the corner of her eyes she saw the scars on his leg and arm were still red, angry-looking and pronounced. She bit her lips to stop her moan escaping and held back tears. It was hard not to cry for all he and thousands of others had been through and were still going through. But yet again, her eyes were drawn in one direction. His massive erection stood out stiff and proud. Chrissie gulped, her earlier fears resurfacing. That would really fit inside her? Oh, my.
Archie correctly read her expression. “Not only fit, but a perfect fit,” he assured her. “With room to move. Come and lie down here.” He walked to the bed and rolled back the sheet and blankets before kneeling awkwardly in front of her. “Hold on a sec, something needs doing first.”
It was on the tip of Chrissie’s tongue to tell him she’d do it, whatever it was, when it hit her that he didn’t want help or sympathy. He wanted to woo her. Her insides turned to mush. How perfect.
“Think we’ll have these off as well. Can’t ruin nylons, can we?” He rolled them down before putting one hand behind her, unhooking her brassiere, and putting the clothing on a chair. The pressure that moving the straps down had put on her chest immediately lifted, as Archie ran his thumbs over the swell of her breasts, and chuckled.
“God almighty, Chrissie you are so bloody receptive for a virgin. It’s marvelous. I’m going to enjoy showing you what we can do together.” He pinched each nipple in turn and kissed the nape of her neck as he kneaded her breasts.
She could tell he’d had plenty of practice. Her pussy clenched at the unwelcome thought of him doing all these things with someone else.
Grow up. He’s almost thirty, and there’s a war on.
“Now, let me see. What have we here?” Once again he kissed one nipple, then the other. “Time to itemize I think. Two breasts perfect to fit my hands. Two nipples to suckle.” He moved his hands to let his fingers play with her clitoris, teasing her hairs, and her navel. “One cunt all for me.”
Chrissie blushed. Why could he say that with such insouciance and she not even think it? It must be a man thing. However, emboldened, Chrissie licked her lips, heard him groan and then reached out to touch Archie’s manhood. His skin was warm and soft and he jolted and moaned as she feathered her fingers over him. One step further than she’d ever taken. Only once had she dared rub him through his trousers, and his groan had her moving her hand in a hurry.
She mimicked his movements, kissed his nipples, and then, heartened by his response, bent double to put the tip of his penis in her mouth and taste the juices there. They were salty and thick. Chrissie rolled them over her tongue as she remembered a leaflet one of the girls at school found in her brother’s room and brought to class to show them. Crudely written and badly produced, the drawings had them all giggling and blushing for weeks. She wondered just how many of her peers had tried what it suggested. Chrissie moved and circled Archie’s tip with her tongue again.
I could get used to this. The more I do this, the bigger he gets. A thought crossed her mind. Would he get too big for her? It wasn’t a question she felt she could ask.
Archie groaned, and she tried to pull back, scared she was doing something wrong. “Hell, Chrissie, that’s so damned good, I’ll come,” he said in a strangled tone. “For the Lord’s sake, get onto the bed and give me a chance to get inside you.” He moved over her, his tip barely touching her curls.
“Archie, what if I don’t want to, you know…” She didn’t know how to put her fears into words, and flapped her and in the air like a demented owl flapping its wing. It was lucky he understood her incoherent beseeching.
“No problem, darling. I’ll come like a gentleman.” He indicated the towel laid in readiness beside him. And moved again, nearer and nearer, and waited. “Yes?”
Chrissie held her breath. This was it. “Oh yes.”
His cock twitched, and without conscious thought, Chrissie opened her legs wide, ready to welcome him. This was it. Soon she, Chrissie Stride, would no longer be sweet and innocent but a woman of the world.
There was a loud hammering on the farmhouse door.
“What the bloody hell?” Archie stopped mid movement. His position looked precarious as he kneeled half on and half off her.
A voice, gruff and urgent, was shouting.
“Mr. Archie, Mr. Archie. Come quick. The rick’s on fire!”
Saved by the bell, she thought hysterically as she watched Archie scramble into his clothes, his cock being most reluctant to be treated in such a way. Not that she’d wanted saving. In fact, she felt uncomfortable. It wasn’t right. She’d at least climaxed. Goodness knows how Archie felt, still unreleased so to speak.
As my mum would have said I hope it tickles your fancy,
Happy reading,
Love R x
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