BEND
99
cents until May 11th
An
Anthology from The Erotica Consortium
Published:
May 5, 2014
Stories
and Authors:
Kick
by C.D. Reiss
Unraveled
by K. Bromberg
COME
by J.A. Huss
Red
& Wolfe by Ella James
The
Devil in Me by K.I. Lynn
Worth
by Shay Savage
These
Men by Andrea Smith
STILL
by Alessandra Torre
DESCRIPTION:
Eight
mistresses of the erotic bring you eight original, never before
published stories to excite and arouse, including USA Today
Bestsellers Alessandra Torre and CD Reiss, and NY Times Bestseller K.
Bromberg.
---------------
These
are not your mother's erotic stories.
We're
not giggling about foul language over tea, or avoiding smut talk at
the Tupperware party.
This
book is slick fingers and flesh on your lips. It's twisted bodies
late at night when the city sleeps and the moans fall where no one
can hear them. This book is pain and pleasure, lust and passion, a
body brought to the breaking point. It's drenched in the musk of
sweat, shuddering at the touch of a Master.
It's
not your mother's erotica. It's yours.
-------------
Unraveled
By
K. Bromberg
One
night.
One
mistake.
Filled
with fear.
Sated
by pleasure.
Robbed
of control.
Blindfolded
and bound.
Shamed
she liked it.
Doomed
to want it.
Limits
tested.
Boundaries
pushed.
Desire
awakened.
Inhibition
unleashed.
An
identity unraveled.
Lives
changed forever.
The
Devil in Me
by
KI Lynn
In
search of strength and guidance at a nearby church, Jared happens
upon a temptation. One he cannot hope to resist. Each time he sees
her, the overwhelming urge to have her consumes him. The lust is
overpowering, dragging him deeper and deeper with each encounter,
exposing the devil within.
Kick
The
first novella in Songs of Perdition.
by
CD Reiss
Fiona
Drazen, sex addict, submissive slave, celebutante, trapped in a
mental ward until Dr. Elliot Chapman can help her remember why she's
there. But once she does, she might not want to go home to the Master
she tried to kill.
Worth
by
Shay Savage
An
injured Roman Tribunus finds comfort in the touch of the slave
commanded to tend to his wounds. As a slave, her value is measured as
a couple of coins, but as Tribunus Faustus learns more about her, he
begins to understand her true worth.
Still,
a man of his station can never acknowledge feelings for a slave, and
she is already owned by another man.
These
Men
by
Andrea Smith
Paige
Matthews has a lot to learn, and more than just about being an intern
with the F.B.I. Inexperience with all types of relationships leaves
her looking for a new place to live. Eli Chambers and his partner,
Cain Maddox, are looking for a roommate. It's the perfect
arrangement, but one that will change all their lives forever.
COME
by
JA Huss
He
must have her, take her, control her, keep her. She will submit. But
she will do it when she is ready and willing. The bond is uneasy and
the future uncertain. But one thing's for sure.
Alone...
Harper and James are dangerous.
Together...
they are unstoppable.
Red
& Wolfe
Part
I - An erotic telling of Little Red Riding Hood.
by
Ella James
After
years attempting to contact her estranged grandmother, an artist who
lives on a remote island, Sarah "Red" Ryder is surprised to
receive an invitation. When she arrives at the island, she's shocked
to find it is now the home of J. Wolfe, the reclusive artist, who has
his own plans for her.
STILL
by
Alessandra Torre
I
was raised right. To mind my manners, keep my knees together, to put
my napkin in my lap. But somehow, with one look at the dark sexuality
that is Brett Jacobs, I forgot my Southern graces. They may have
gotten lost in the pushmeupagainstthewall and takemehere action that
occurred. In the clothes-ripping ohmygod action that followed. They
may have, along with my sanity and common sense, deserted me, leaving
me with bruised lips, ripped panties, and multiple orgasms.
This
set will only be available for a limited time, so get it before it
disappears.
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BOOK
LINKS
AUTHOR
INFORMATION
Collective
biography
The
Erotica Consortium was the brain child of CD Reiss. In December 2013
she asked JA Huss to help her pull together the hottest erotica
writers to start a private Facebook group that would encourage
support in all areas of bookish things. Members of The Erotica
Consortium were personally invited by JA and CD and the group is
complete with six additional authors: Shay Savage, Andrea Smith, KI
Lynn, K Bromberg, Ella James, and Alessandra Torre. BEND is their
first anthology together.
SHAY
SAVAGE INFORMATION
TWITTER:
@savage7289
Worth
Excerpt:
Aia
squeezed my hand gently before releasing it and moving back to her
bench. She reached for a cloth and dipped it in a bowl of water and
then ran the cool cloth over my forehead and down the side of my
face. She continued, apparently determined to wash whatever remained
of the blood of battle away from my flesh.
I
closed my eyes and evened out my breaths as her ministrations lulled
me. My shoulders still ached from the constant position against the
bed, but I tried not to think of the discomfort. When I opened my
eyes, I saw Aia looking down my body and couldn’t help but respond
with a smile.
“Do
you still think of it?”
Aia
looked back at me.
“Of
what, Faustus?”
“My
cock pressed against your belly.”
She
looked away, but I could still make out the crimson shade of her
cheeks and neck in the glow of the candles on the table. I wanted to
reach out and grab her hand again, but she was too far away.
“I’m
still in need of distraction,” I reminded her.
“I
think you need sleep,” Aia rebutted. Her lips pressed together, and
I was sure she wanted to comment further, but chose not to do so. I
found my eyes drawn to the front of her dress as she leaned over me,
partially exposing one of her breasts.
Despite
the discomfort, my cock took notice.
“Distract
me,” I commanded again.
“I
think you know everything about my life now, Faustus.”
“Then
distract me another way,” I suggested. I kept my eyes on her, and
when she looked to me, I raised an eyebrow and smiled suggestively.
Aia
turned to drop the cloth in the bowl, and I watched her eyes as she
looked down my body. From my supine position, the state of my cock
was becoming noticeable. Her blush returned, and she looked back to
the bowl again. Her hand trembled slightly as she wrung out the cloth
and hung it beside the table.
Reaching
out, I took her wrist and guided her hand to the hard length of my
cock.
“How
long will it be,” I asked with lowered voice, “until I can fill
you with this?”
Interview
with Shay Savage:
When
did you start writing?
I’ve
always had stories in my head begging to be released. I first
published in December of 2012 when I released Otherwise Alone, the
first book in the Evan Arden trilogy.
What
were you very first stories about?
The
first real novel I wrote was fantasy/erotica. It was violent and
dark. I set if off to the side for a year or so after writing it, and
when I went back to read it again, I decided it was crap. It’s
never seen the light of day. I continued along the erotica path, but
focused more on the psychological and crime. I do play a fantasy
based erotica story for 2015.
Have
you always written male POV?
Not
always, but as I delved more into first person perspective, that’s
where my focus has been. Many people have asked if I really am a
woman (yes, I am – ha!), but my interests lie in more
male-dominated activities and most of my friends are men. I think I
have a pretty good understanding of how they think.
How
do you choose your character's names?
Usually
from friends (with their permission) or soccer players. Many times
I’ll check out those “behind the name” websites to choose last
names for characters. I like finding a name that fits a major
personality trait of my characters. Example: Sebastian Stark.
Sebastian is from the Bayern Munich/German national team player
Sebastian Schwansteiger, and Stark means “strength”.
How
do you write your stories? Chronological order, sections?
I
vary a lot on this. Usually I start a story with a scene that comes
into my head. That scene could be anywhere in the story, from the
very beginning to the climax. I’ll build around that scene. For the
most part I write from the beginning to the end, but I will jump
around a lot as well. I always write the smut scenes from the orgasm
backward. I don’t know why, it just works better for me that way.
Did
you always plan on self-publishing?
I
debated for quite a while, but my need for control has led me down
the indie path. I like how quickly I can go from finishing the
writing to actually having the book available for people to read. It
works for me. I’m still trying to get the hang of the business side
of it, but I’m making progress with a lot of help from other
authors and friends.
Was
it a hard decision to quit working to become a full time writer?
It
really was. I toyed with the idea when I changed jobs in early 2012,
but decided to stick with the day job. At that point, I hadn’t
published anything though I planned to do so. I worked as a manager
in the IT field and made good money, so going into the unknown was
pretty frightening. For better or worse, conditions at my workplace
combined with the success of Surviving Raine gave me the kick in the
ass I needed to give it a shot. I’m really glad I did!
Many
people consider Surviving Raine and Transcendence two great romance
stories. Do you consider yourself a romance writer?
Obviously
romance plays a key role in what I write, but to me it’s a side
note and not the main story. I like to understand people’s behavior
and what goes on in their heads to make them do the things they do.
After college, I worked with a lot of kids from terrible backgrounds,
and I’ve always been fascinated with the reasons a bully becomes a
bully (or an alcoholic, or a hit man). I like to think of my stories
as psychological studies first, full of intense action-based plots
second, and erotic/romantic in nature is third.
What
is your favorite genre to read?
I
read a lot of fantasy books, some sci-fi, and a decent amount of
erotica. I always look for stories that are going to keep me guessing
and not follow a formula. The writing has to be really good to hold
my interest. I’m surprised at how much out there doesn’t follow
some of the basics of fiction writing, and I shy away from anything
that hasn’t been properly edited. I see this just as much in
traditionally published fiction as I do with indie authors.
Do
your parents or children read your stories?
My
parents have read many of them, though I don’t think they have read
all. They’re very supportive and proud of me. They’ve given a lot
of my books to my grade school teachers (my parents both taught in my
elementary school), which is a little bizarre for me, so I don’t
think about it too much. My daughter is a voracious reader, but too
young to delve into what I write at this point, and my college-age
son pretends I don’t write this stuff. Ha! His girlfriend and many
of her friends have read them though.
How
did you meet The Savage Trainer?
When
I first started Legion Training and began to work out regularly, my
gym just didn’t cut it anymore. I signed up for a new gym and was
given a freebie training session with one of their trainers. I was
paired with TST. He looked so much like the image of Evan Arden I’d
had in my head for months that I was kind of floored the moment I
first looked at him. I’m surprised I managed to speak coherently
(maybe I didn’t – you’ll have to ask him). I was also impressed
by how great a trainer he is, which was obvious even though I had to
keep wiping drool off my chin between sets.
Did
you approach him about being your muse right away, or did you have to
warm up to it?
I’m
a pretty straightforward person. I asked him right away, and he’s
been a fabulous asset ever since then. He’s a gorgeous model,
dedicated trainer, and a wonderful friend. I’ve learned a lot from
him, and we work together very well both in the gym and when it comes
to my work.
JA
HUSS INFORMATION
TWITTER:
@jahuss
COME
EXCERPT
“You
said, ‘You don’t want to know me… I’m no one.”’ He turns
to face me head-on now, his expression blank, his mouth a flat line.
His eyes impassive and empty. I can see it now. This is
a killer’s face. The dimples are hiding underneath the frown. The
emotionless facade of a hardened assassin. A man who sees death as
nothing personal, just a job to be completed.
“But
you’re wrong, Harp. I’m
the invisible one. You’re a beacon in the dark as far as I’m
concerned. I’m the unknowable one. And if you were my contract, I
would kill you.” He stares down at me with those impassive, cold,
businesslike green eyes. “Just as sure as I did my brother. Because
that’s what I do. That’s who I am. You might have all the moves,
but you have none of the venom, angelfish.”
He
turns to walk away but I grab him again. “You wouldn’t kill me—”
His
hands grab me by the waist and yank me to his chest. “You think you
want me? You think you want to know more?” He leans down and
breathes into my neck for a moment. “Would you like me to take you,
Harper?”
Tingles
erupt throughout my whole body and the throbbing between my legs is
begging for more contact. More skin on skin. More conversation, more
soft, whispered words. More of everything. I want more of everything.
“Because
I will. I’m that kind of guy. The kind who’ll seduce a little
girl and fuck her wild just because he can make her think she wants
him so bad, she’ll spread her legs and do as she’s told.”
“I’m
almost nineteen. I can handle more than you think.”
He
laughs. “A baby who has no idea what to do with a cock in her
mouth.”
I’m
ashamed to admit it, but instead of embarrassing me, his words hurt.
“I’m
not interested in the babies, Harper. I just take what I want. And
you were right to demand to know me before you let me fuck you.
Because you reminded me of what
I am. Why I’m here.” He yanks his arm from my grip and turns
again.
My
leg reaches forward and tangles with his, making him stumble, and
then I grab his arm and twist. He reacts faster than I can plan the
next move, and two seconds later he’s got me pinned to the
concrete. Straddling my waist, hands holding me down, hunched over
and leaning into my face. “You want me to stay?”
I
can’t answer because I’m not sure.
He
rises up on his knees a little bit, and then his hands release mine
and begin to unbuckle his belt.
I
lie absolutely still.
Once
the buckle is out of the way, he makes quick work of the button, then
the zipper on his pants.
I
swallow hard.
“You
will take my cock in your mouth.”
JA
Huss' Top Five Movies
Tombstone
The
Last Samurai
The
Fifth Element
Oh
Brother, Where Art thou
Blade
Runner
JA
Huss' top Five Books
Daughter
of Smoke and Bone series by Laini Taylor
The
Sea of Tranquility by Katja Millay
The
Edge of Never by JA Redmerski
Takeshi
Kovacs Series by Richard K Morgan
Shatter
Me by Tahereh Mafi
JA
Huss' Top Five Dream Vacation Spots
Fiji
- I just might move here. :)
Any
place in Japan, but preferably the entire collection of islands. I’d
like to spend a year there.
A
summer in Antarctica because it scares the shit out of me.
A
cruise around Alaska.
The
Golden Coast of Australia.
CD
REISS INFORMATION
TWITTER:
@CDReisswriter
KICK
EXCERPT
The
club is thick with humanity. The dance floor stinks. The voices are
like a bag of broken glass. The music is a throbbing heartbeat. And
the man is gone.
I
put my hands on bare, sweaty skin, pushing through. Amanda finds me,
blonde hair stuck to her forehead, lipstick fading, her bodyguard,
Joel, two steps behind in dark glasses and firearm. She kisses me on
the lips. I push her away.
“You
see a guy in a suit? Tall? Hair like this?” I make a motion with my
fingers.
“Hot?”
“Hot.”
She
points to the exit with a wink. I smack a kiss on her lips, and
continue pushing through.
She
calls my name as I walk away, but I pretend I don’t hear her. I
have a man to find.
Nothing
like coke to make the impossible seem within reach, or to make it
within your rights to shove, tread upon, growl and curse to get
through a crowd just to get a look at some hot stranger. Nothing like
that expansion of the ego to make it okay to push some squealing
teeny bopper out of your way when she screams “Fiona Drazen! You’re
Fiona Drazen!” in your fucking face as if your name alone is front
page fucking news.
Of
course, they wait outside in a cluster, pressing against the red
velvet ropes. Paparazzi don’t care about the weather, which is
rainy and cold for Los Angeles. Lights flash. They call out my name
as if I even answer to it any more. Let them get their pictures. I
have him in my sights.
He
hands the valet a tip and takes the keys to a black Range Rover.
He
is a thoroughbred, and there are twenty assholes with cameras between
him and me, which is too bad, because I have to have him.
I
put my knuckles out to them, both middle fingers extended for all
it’s worth. I have rings on top of rings, and I know the lights are
going to glint on them like hell in the pictures. I’m going to look
like a flashy rich bitch and the coke tells me I don’t give a
fucking shit what Daddy thinks.
I
turn to the doorman, skinny ex-cop with a pencil moustache. He looks
at my chest, then at my face. I know Irv. He’s a hustler. He keeps
these assholes off us when we’re around, but he takes cash to let
them know when Amanda and I show up.
“Irv!
What the fuck?”
“I
got it,” he says.
“Outta
my way cocksuckers!” I shout, plowing through, with Irv’s help.
They back off for him in a way they’d never do for me. I know
they’d chew me up, spit me out, and photograph me crawling to the
hospital.
I
get to the Range Rover and pound on the passenger side window. It’s
tinted. The car doesn’t move and the window stays up. Do I have the
right one?
“Fiona
Drazen!”
They’re
behind me, and I’m on the curb, in the drizzle, out of Irv’s
field of influence. If he comes to get me, he’s leaving the door,
and that’s not cool.
I
pound on the window again. Bursts of light flash on it.
I’m
about to get mobbed.
“Hey,
asshole,” I shout.
The
window rolls down so slowly I feel as if I’m in a movie about
falling.
And
there he is. My heart jumps out of my chest.
“Hi,”
I say, sticking me head in. I can feel them behind me. I can hear
them calling my name, over and over. “You took something of mine
outta the bathroom.”
“Really?”
He’s older than I thought, and this makes him more attractive then
humanly possible. “What?”
“My
heart.” It’s a stupid come on, but I’m a girl. I can get away
with it.
“Ah.
I thought maybe your shirt buttons.” For the first time, he glances
at my chest, and I feel that my breasts are chilled.
My
shirt is wide open. Fucking Earl with his octopus hands.
“Don’t
make me turn around,” I say. “They already got enough pictures.”
He
takes a second to think about it, looking me straight in the face. A
little smirk plays on the perfect line of his lips and I think I just
might die.
ANDREA
SMITH INFORMATION
TWITTER:
@maybebabyauthor
THESE
MEN EXCERPT
He
interrupted, pulling me closer to him on the bed. "Baby,"
he said softly. "It's because I see that chemistry going back
and forth between you and Maddox…and, I guess I'm just not sure if
there's enough of that same chemistry—in you—left over for me.
Because I know that there's plenty in me left for you—if you want
it, I mean."
And
I think he might've just blushed right then, like a guy that was
wearing his heart on his sleeve—just putting it right out there and
so worried that it might not be enough.
But
it was enough.
It
was more than enough.
"Oh
Eli," I sighed, "I can't believe you've told me all of
this, but I am so fucking glad that you have."
Our
eyes met and locked. In that moment, everything that Cain Maddox had
assured me of since we'd given in to our feelings was coming true.
I
leaned over and brushed my lips softly against his, waiting for him
to snake his arms around me and pull me against to him.
I
didn't wait long until that was exactly what he did.
We
kissed and it was unfamiliar, but it was sweet. And every second, it
became sweeter. I felt myself warm to his touch; my belly tingled
with anticipation of where he might touch me next and I wanted him to
touch me in different places.
He
turned and pulled me into his lap, his fingers tilted my chin back so
that his eyes could study mine and I saw the warmth fill them.
"God,
baby. We're going to do this."
He
lifted me up into his strong arms, carried me to their room, and
gently deposited me on their bed. The same bed that I had shared with
Cain, I was now going to share with Eli and I wanted it. I wanted it
more than I thought I ever could.
"Get
undressed," he ordered, "We'll do the sensual shit another
time, but for right this second, I need to be inside of you and claim
you as mine, too."
God,
his words made me wet and yeah, that surprised the hell out of me as
well. I scrambled to do as he ordered, shedding my clothes quickly;
leaving my thong on so that he would be the one to relieve me of it
when it was time…
He
was standing there naked and he was every bit as beautiful as Cain.
His body was well-muscled and his belly flat. He had a lighter
complexion than Cain, but God he was beautiful in a "golden-boy"
sort of way. I felt myself getting wet just in anticipation of what
would happen next.
He
opened the bedside table drawer, and pulled out a handful of condoms.
Holy
shit.
He
pushed me back against the pillows on the bed, his eyes taking in all
of my nakedness with a hunger. He straddled me with his strong,
muscular thighs, leaning forward to capture my lips with his.
I
laced my arms around his strong neck, pulling him in closer. I felt
his fingertips lightly caressing my breasts, slowly and methodically
tugging at my nipples until they grew hard for him. He moved his
mouth to one, his tongue circling the soft peaks, and his fingers
gently kneading my breast so that he could begin suckling.
I
drew in a sharp breath as he took the nipple into his mouth and
sucked hard on it, my pussy now fairly soaked in anticipation. I
needed him inside of me every bit as much as he wanted to be there.
THESE
MEN PLAYLIST
Girls
Just Wanna Have Fun
Cyndi
Lauper
Sexual
Thing
Poison
My
Prerogative
Bobby
Brown
I
Want Your Sex
George
Michaels
Losing
My Religion
R.E.M.
Waiting
On The World to Change
John
Mayer
Something
to Talk About
Bonnie
Raitt
Who
Says You Can't Go Home
Bon
Jovi
All
Through The Night
Cyndi
Lauper
Dreams
The
Cranberries
We
Belong
Pat
Benatar
I'll
Stand By You
Pretenders
ALESSANDRA
TORRE INFORMATION
TWITTER:
@ReadAlessandra
Still
Excerpt:
Midnight.
Thirteen hours left in paradise, then our hungover selves will be
strapped in and flying back to ATL. I hang an arm around twin necks,
inhaling the scent of hairspray and feminine energy, leaning my head
back, weight on their shoulders,and bellow the chorus of Sweet
HomeAlabama,
the club singing along, my mouth breaking into a grin too big too
contain, the familiar tune never failing to raise my spirits. Never
mind that,between the six of us, we’ve set foot on Alabama soil
less than ten times. It is the anthem of the South, and seeing as it
took Jena flashing the Bahamian DJ her breasts to get it played, we
own every syllable of the damn thing.
The
last chorus rings out, and I release the girls, spinning on the
floor, my arms up, getting bumped by sweaty bodies, the dance floor
getting tighter by the moment. A heavy bass begins, drowning out the
country chorus and starting back into the hip-hop that had been
dominating the speakers all night.
I
slow my hips, glance at our table, seeing Beth and Tammy there,the
rest of us sprinkled between the dance floor and the ladies room. I
am pushed forward, hands settling on my waist as a stranger tries to
pull me into his crotch-thrusting imitation of a dance. I yank at his
wrists, shooting an annoyed look over my shoulder, and move to our
table, snagging my purse off its surface and moving toward the neon
lit exit sign. Air. I need air. Air and a moment to regroup, focus.
Come to terms with the fact that none of the men in this club will be
taking care of my needs tonight. None of them seem worthy of a drink.
Too young. Too immature. Too available. Too … not who I am looking
for.
I
bang through the exit door, the rush of cool night kissing my skin. I
take two steps to the right and lean against the brick exterior wall,
legs out, head flat against red brick. God yes. I almost wish I still
smoke. I remember the escapes from life that it provided, the moment
to take a pause from the world and do nothing but relax. Now, I don’t
need the nicotine—just the combination of air and quiet are enough
to ease my tension and take me one step closer to
I-Can’t-Even-Remember-His-Name-Ville.
I
sense the presence before I see it. In the shadows to my right. I
stiffen, lowering my chin and staring, confronting whoever it is with
my gaze. Then he speaks, and I relax, need and heat and want flooding
my body with just the scrape of my name. In that one word, that one
growl, every lieI’ve told myself is exposed. I need him. My body
needs him. Wants more. I had behaved in the hallway of the 8th floor.
I had made a mistake. I don’t intend to make another.
“Come
here.”
He
stalks forward, in a suit, his hands leaving his pockets as he walks,
his head level, stare direct, and eats me with his eyes as he moves
without hesitation, not pausing until he is suddenly against me, his
hand firm, gripping the side of my face, his mouth taking mine in a
possessive kiss that has me back against the wall, his palm against
my skin almost hurting me in its need. I gasp for breath when I can
grab it, his kiss desperate, dipping,pulling me tighter. I love it.
“I
need you,” he grunts, his free hand sliding up my thigh,pushing my
dress inappropriately high, his fingers gripping, squeezing, the heat
of his palm sliding over my skin like he owns it, his large hand
ending on my ass, and he feels every inch of it as if he is
memorizing, worshiping,taking it in his mind as his own.
“Yes,”
I gasp, lifting my leg and hooking it around him, the shift in my
body opening the place between my legs, his fingers finding and
running reverently over the line of silk that keeps me tied to the
edge of sanity.
The
door next to me opens, shielding us for a moment, and I freeze behind
it, my body tensing. His hand drops from my face, wrapping around my
body, the other hand returning to my ass, both of them working in
concert and lifting, carrying me into the dark shadows where he had
just stood, a new wall replacing the brick, this one rough stucco,
and I feel lines of it dig into my sunburned skin as sets me down,
his mouth taking a break from the kiss and moving to my neck, the
rough journey letting me know the level of his need.
Further
proof is against me, his pelvis pressed tighter than possible against
my own, the hard ridge of it against my sex making my breath hitch
with every twitch of him along me. God, I want this man. Am made weak
from his touch yet have never felt this aggressive.
Feather
soft brushes against silk. Teasing. Torturing. His hand keeping my
leg in place, though there is no way I’m moving it. Not when it
opens me up to him. Not when it keeps that iron against the place
where I want it most. My panties are so wet it is embarrassing. I
pant against the night air, struggling for silence, the murmurs of
the couple who have stepped outside breaking the silence of the
night, the orange embers of their smokes reminding me of their
presence, their attention on each other, a giggle escaping from their
conversation and sending a moment of intelligent thought to my head.
Am I really being humped in the shadows against the side of a
building? Is this beautiful man really running the pad of his fingers
back and forth, lower and higher, finding the—oh my god. My head
drops back, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes me when my
silk-covered clit is brushed by his fingers.
Jesus.
It’s not a curse. It is a thankful message sent upward. I have been
lost and now, in that light brush against my most sensitive place, I
am found.
He
chuckles against my neck, his fingers moving back an inch or two,
until they are back at my soaked opening, pushing on the indent
there,the silk moving far enough inside for me to feel the brush of
skin on skin, andI just about lift off the ground in my need for
more.
“Don’t
stop,” I gasp.
“Honey,
I’m not going stop until you fall apart in my hands.I need that.
I’m not releasing you until it happens.”
TOP
10 TV SHOWS THAT DOMINATE ALESSANDRA'S TV:
1.
Vikings (I'll take a threesome with the two brothers ANYTIME)
2.
Black Sails (almost makes me want to be a wench)
3.
The Good Wife
4.
Scandal
5.
NCIS: Los Angeles (LOVE me some LL)
6.
Family Guy (Stewie just said that!)
7.
Spongebob (I'd blame it on the 11 year old but... we love SB)
8.
Seinfeld
9.
Tosh.O
10.
Nashville
K
BROMBERG INFORMATION
TWITTER:
@KBrombergDriven
UnRaveled
Excerpt:
My
body begins to writhe, its need to sate the burning ache a sharp
contrast to the warring emotions in my psyche. My only focus is on
the slow slide in of his fingers and the pressure and friction
against nerves unexpectedly reawakened. The tortuous withdrawal of
leather not wet enough tugging softly on the most tender of flesh,
causing a different but equally arousing sensation.
I
try to fight it.
At
least I tell myself I do.
I
try to understand how this is possible. How an orgasm can rip me
apart right now—again—when fear still holds my breath captive.
I
should have never accepted the drink, never looked up to acknowledge
him with a subtle nod of my head.
My
body vibrates as the swell of white-hot heat sears through me, taking
nerve endings hostage and overwhelming all thoughts.
I
shouldn’t have looked up—no—so the question is, why am I glad
that I did?
ELLA
JAMES INFORMATION
TWITTER:
@author_ellaj
Red
&Wolfe Excerpt:
I
refresh my red lipstick about twelve times before leaving the shrimp
shack, then point my Camry toward the water.
The
clouds are darker now, hanging low over the harbor. Gulls crisscross
the sky, moving frenziedly. I follow the instructions of my GPS and
pull into a parking lot that reaches to the water’s edge, where
there’s a long, wooden dock lined with boat slips.
I
shoot off an e-mail. “I’m here.” Then I grab my duffel bag,
lean against my hood, and wait.
What
will Gertrude look like? I watch the boats docked, serviced by
fluttering figures, heads bowed against a muggy but swift breeze, and
I wonder which of the boats could be hers.
My
phone vibrates. “Walk closer to the dock. The boat name is ‘Fog.’”
My heart hammers. My mouth feels dry. I tuck my hair behind my ears,
adjust the bag on my shoulder, and start walking. I walk along the
long plank of the dock, passing boats—“Double Trouble,” “Choppy
Cass,” “Stupid Does.” The wind blows my hair across my cheeks.
A few strands stick to my lips. I’m pushing at them with my
fingertips, looking down a few slots, watching for a woman with gray
hair and my mother’s mouth. I’m walking slowly I see him: a tall
man with broad shoulders, a short beard, and piercing black-brown
eyes. He’s wearing a pair of slacks and a white shirt with the
sleeves rolled up, so I can see his muscled forearms. His face is
partially shaded by a baseball cap. And even so, I know he’s here
for me.
Before
his eyes even meet mine, my body flares like a lit match. He takes a
few strides toward me, and his gaze touches my face. The heat fades
from my cheeks, replaced by bloodless cold.
“You’re
Red,” a low voice says.
“You’re
not my grandmother.”
KI
LYNN INFORMATION
TWITTER:
@KI_Lynn_
The
Devil in Me Excerpt:
The
nerves on my neck lit up, tingling down my side. It woke me from my
trance, and I turned to find innocent eyes looking at me from one row
up on the other side of the aisle. When our gazes connected, she
didn’t flinch, her eyes didn’t widen, but a slight blush did
appear on her cheeks.
The
strange current continued to move through me.
I
was caught, roped in, staring at her.
She
seemed young—early twenties maybe. I went from studying Jesus to
studying the woman who called to me. That was the only way I could
explain the firing off of every nerve ending in my body.
She
had large, blue doe eyes that bored into my soul. Dark brown, wavy
hair curled around her smooth, pale skin and full cheeks. She nabbed
her full bottom lip with her teeth before looking away, hiding from
me.
It
didn’t stop me from staring at her. I tilted my head to the side,
forehead scrunched as I tried to figure out what the hell had just
happened—and why my cock was so hard. It was just a look, but at
the same time, it felt like so much more. A connection, and not that
love-at-first-sight bullshit.
Base
level between a man and a woman—a need that populated the earth.
Our
strange interaction caused images of fucking her on the altar to
course through my mind. Was she as untouched as her innocent face
suggested? She looked soft, inviting, and corruptible. How would her
full hips feel beneath my hands as I thrust my cock into her?
I
turned back to the front and began to ask for forgiveness for the
things I was thinking about doing to her. My dick, however, continued
to dream. A small groan slipped from my lips, and her head snapped
up. I cupped my cock through my jeans, adjusting it so it didn’t
press so hard against the seam. It twitched against my palm as she
squirmed in her seat.
Fuck.
I
sat still, staring at her profile. Her lips parted, skin pink, and
she moved her ass again. I blew out a breath to calm myself. It was
ridiculous. I was just horny because I hadn’t had sex since Monica
gave me a break-up fuck three months prior.
After
a few minutes, she stood and headed to the confessional. I couldn’t
help but turn to look at her delectable ass as she walked. Soft
curves called to me, begging me to touch them, own them.
As
soon as she stepped out of sight, I ran down the steps to the
restroom and locked myself in. I splashed some water on my face,
staring at the image in front of me. Someone else stared back. My
brown eyes were almost black, lids heavy with a force of lust I’d
never experienced.
My
teeth clenched, muscles coiled tight as my hips rocked, searching for
her. I grabbed hold of the sink, my breath heavy and hard.
What
is wrong with me?
It
was overpowering. An internal battle for control waged as consuming
need pumped through my veins. I popped open my jeans and pulled my
cock out. It didn’t matter that I stood in the bathroom of a
church—I had to get off before I went insane.
The
Devil in Me Soundtrack
Obsession
by Animoto
Tear
You Apart by She Wants Revenge
Fight
Inside by Red
My
Songs Know What You Did In The Dark by Fall Out Boy
Monster
by Imagine Dragons
Monster
by Lady Gaga
Monster
by Skillet
Seven
Devils by Florence and the Machine
Bitch
Came Back by Theory of a Deadman
Killin’
It by Krewella
Dark
Horse by Katy Perry
Closer
by Nine Inch Nails
Timber
by Pitbull
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