101 Sexy Dares

by Olivia Knight

101 Sexy Dares is not a book for reading. Have a quick flip through, and there's nothing to read at all. Don't gnash your teeth or thrash your heels - reading can be overrated.

Here we are, reading:

Here we are, still reading.

Here we are, still reading.

When we could be doing this:

You can't read 101 Sexy Dares as you flip through, because all the pages are sealed. Here's what you do: tear one of the Dares from this book, read it in private...and then do it with your lover.

Once you've been dared, you have to do it! Remember that?

It's fifty-fifty, his 'n hers, so each of you gets to plan a delicious, erotically charged seduction for the other... and then be seduced yourself, week after week. (50 dares for him, 50 dares for her, 1 for both!)

And next thing you know it's this...



then this...



then this:

Yee-haa!

This fabulous and naughty book is put together by Laura Corn (insanely famous sex-advice-person and also the author of The Great American Sex Diet, 101 Nights of Grrreat Sex, 101 Nights of Grrreat Romance, 52 Invitations to Grrreat Sex, 101 Grrreat Quickies, and 237 Intimate Questions Every Woman Should Ask a Man) ~ and for the first time ever, she's invited guest authors to contribute celebrity dares, including Lusties and ex-Lusties Alison Tyler, Megan Hart, Olivia Knight, and Shanna Germain.

So today we're daring you, to dare us right back. Laura's offering the Laura Corn Waaay Too Much Fun Package, including 101 Nights of Grrreat Sex, 101 Nights of Grrreat Romance, and 52 Invitations to Grrreat Sex, to the person who writes us the most teasing, tantalising, fun-sounding dare. That's the hamper on the right, and you have today plus the whole weekend to dare us. (As always, multiple entrances are always welcome on Lust Bites - so dare, dare, and dare again.) Your dare should be no more than 100 words ~ but to get you in the mood, here's a taster of the kind of dare you'll get in the book.

Truth or Dare

(for BOTH)

I Dare You … to expose yourself ~ I Dare You … to be curious ~ I Dare You … to ask for it ~ I Dare You … to please each other ~ I Dare You … to smirk ~ I Dare You … to try something new

When you meet someone, they’re an undiscovered continent and every sudden sparkle promises a gold mine. You may think you know every gully now, but who knows what lies in the next valley? Beware: here be dragons. Truth is the most exciting and dangerous game of all. Dares can make you blush, squirm, and cross into uncharted territory. So remember – it’s a game. It’s play time!

The rules
1. Take turns to ask “Truth or dare?”
2. Only ask what you want to know.
3. All dares have to be sexual, lasting five minutes maximum (No daring each other to wash up!)
4. You can’t repeat a question or dare.
5. Agree in advance: if you choose “truth” and don’t want to answer, can you switch to “dare”? If you then don’t like the dare, can you go back to “truth” and answer the question?

What do you wonder, but shy away from asking? Maybe it’s “What’s your favourite fantasy?” or “What do I taste like?” Perhaps “Have you ever thought about trying…” or “How does it feel when I…” – fill in the blank.
What haven’t you asked for a long time, or ever? It could be “What’s your favourite song at the moment?” “Which room in the house do you like best?” or “If you won the lottery, what would you do?” Remember those fascinating conversations at the beginning, learning the shape of someone’s soul, life, tastes, past, dreams, and the odd little thoughts that skip through their head. Think of all the arbitrary things you’d love to know. People change and stay the same: there’s always more to find out.
What do you want each other to do right now? Are you brave enough to ask for it? The fantasy that makes you bite your lip could be a dare away. So could a foot massage. Expect to flush, laugh, splutter, get hoarse, and swop secrets.

Agree an evening and fix a nibbly, low-stress meal – bread and cheeses, a selection of tidbits from the local deli, or whatever is easy and tasty to snack on. Perhaps a bottle of wine will loosen your tongues. Set your feast up on the living room table, settle on the sofa, and ask “Truth or dare?”
Two hours later, your skin is warm from blushing and your stomach fluttering with giggles. You’re sitting bare-breasted, because he dared you to. He’s writhing with embarrassment and delight, demonstrating how to give a proper handjob – after all, he’s the expert. You’ve just discovered that one of you has a secret penchant for dressing up, that the other loves the idea of underwater sex, that your favourite flowers aren’t roses but poppies, that he pretends he’s a spy on the way to work, and that you both fantasise about surviving on a desert island. Your feast is half-demolished, abandoned. You pop an olive in her mouth, staring avidly, enthralled.
“Can I have a go?” you say.
More clothes come off. The sofa squeaks in protest. The game continues, breathless: Truth – what does this feel like? Dare – I dare you to lick my…
Perhaps; perhaps not. This is your game now – you make the rules.

Now over to you - write your 100 word dare for a chance to win 101 Nights of Grrreat Sex, 101 Nights of Grrreat Romance, and 52 Invitations to Grrreat Sex. Then nip over and grab your copy of 101 Sexy Dares for your lover's Christmas present and the only New Year's resolution either of you will need.

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Technovirgin? Here's what to do!
• To see this post & people’s comments on the same page, click the title at the top of the post.
• To comment… • Click Post a comment. • Write in the box under Leave a comment. • In the Word verification box, type the funny word above: this proves you’re a person, not a machine. • Under Choose an identity, click Name. Write any name you like – but give us a name, so we can identify you as the winner! • Click Publish your comment. • To get back to the post, click on the title again at the top of the page.

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P.S. Don't forget I'm reading in Oxford tomorrow!

Smut Slot - Wildwood

by Janine Ashbless

This picture of Holly is by my old mate Ian Stobie, and suits Wildwood exactly. Used with permission.

Did you know, it's exactly a year since I last claimed the Smut Slot? Well today I'm delighted to offer an excerpt from my latest novel Wildwood, a tale of contemporary magic. If you want some more info about the plot you can catch up here, but for this excerpt all you need to know is that Avril has just been out for a memorable first date with her boss, Michael, and now he's driving her home.

---

We didn’t talk as we drove back. I mean, in the circumstances, what was there I could say? In the glow of the dashboard light Michael’s face was only dimly visible, but I assumed he wore an expression of satisfaction. His white shirt seemed almost phosphorescent.

He’d had a complete change of clothing and a first-aid kit waiting back at the car. He’d daubed his cuts and bites with antiseptic and they seemed to have stopped bleeding. No marks showed on the new shirt.

As we drew nearer home he broke the silence to enquire, ‘Back to your place, or to my hotel?’

‘You can drop me off at the bottom gate of the Grange.’ My voice was raspy with rage.

He didn’t reply, but he took the turnings obediently enough and soon drew up outside the locked iron gates, pulling across the road to park in the little lay-by. He didn’t switch the engine off. The curve of the wall and the bars of the gate were the only objects visible; beyond the cast of the dipped headlights the night was totally black. I didn’t care; I’d far rather walk on my own across the estate grounds than spend any more time in his company.

‘You seem angry, Avril,’ he said as I grabbed for the handle.

‘Angry?’ I glared at him as the interior light came on. ‘What could I possibly be angry about? Well - I suppose there is the emotional blackmail. That’s the sort of thing that might make some people angry.’

His expression was mild. ‘You had a choice. I promised you that.’

‘Yes.’ I slid down onto the road. ‘And I should have let them rip you apart.’ Then I slammed the door on him. But I was at a disadvantage; the estate gate was over on the driver’s side of the vehicle, and the road around here was all loose gravel chippings, so I had to stop and put my shoes back on. By the time I crossed in front of the bonnet he was out too, waiting for me. Half-blinded by the headlights, I nearly walked into him. He caught my wrists. I went rigid.

‘Avril.’ He was standing very close; so close that our bodies were nearly touching. I could feel the warmth radiating from his torso, and smell his skin. He inclined his head so that he could murmur in my ear, and I felt the caress of his breath: ‘If you should have, then why didn’t you?’ His voice was soft and throaty and it made all the hairs stand up on my neck.

I didn’t reply. I didn’t shrug him off or pull away, though my muscles were locked with tension. I let him take my earlobe softly between his teeth and nip at my flesh. I let him put his finger on my cheek and then draw it along my jaw and then down my throat and breastbone, very gently. I couldn’t see him at all; the headlights were blinding, but I could feel his excitement. It was like electricity leaping the tiny gap between our bodies. Though I stayed rigid I let him turn me to face the front of the car and then, holding me from behind, put my hands on the warm vibrating hood. He moved slowly, with great deliberation. Giving me time to know exactly what was going on.

See: I had the choice.

‘Spread your legs,’ he said softly. And I obeyed. I put my ankles apart. My calves were already taut in those unaccustomed high heels. Michael leaned into me firmly, spreading my arms wider too, so that I was tilted forward, my bum sticking out. I could feel the hard bulge of his erection nudging my buttock. Then he stood back, just looking at me. Granting me time to comprehend my surrender. ‘Good girl.’

My legs were trembling. My heart was turning somersaults. You bastard, I thought.

Then he lifted my skirt and laid it over my back, exposing my naked sex to the night. I could feel the breeze on my most intimate flesh. I could picture how I must look to him very clearly: all long legs and heart-shaped ass, my face and torso in shadow. Just my pert out-thrust cheeks and the dusky teardrop of the sex that they framed, soft and sweet and defenceless. I wasn’t in the most pristine of states given our earlier activities; my placket was still puffy and slick with moisture. But as he stood there examining me I felt a sudden gush of new warmth and I knew that I was creaming up for him all over again. I was glad then that it was dark, because my face was burning with humiliation.

Firmly, Michael cupped my pussy in his hand and squeezed. My juiciness was only too apparent. Still it did not seem to be enough to satisfy him: he spent some time adjusting my stance, spreading my bum-cheeks with his hands, running his fingers up the deep cleft and over my buttocks and through the slippery petals of my sex. He stroked the tight iris of my anus until I whimpered, feeling myself yield. There was nothing I could hide from him, and when I heard the sound of his flies being opened I knew that there was nothing I would not let him have.
I wanted him to fuck me.

I wanted his cock so much that when he put it to the wet lips of my sex and pushed bluntly into me I sobbed in relief. And Michael heard and understood perfectly: ‘Yes. There it is; it’s okay,’ he murmured. ‘You’re all right now. You’ve got it.’
I had to bite my lip to hold back the tears of gratitude.

He fucked me very thoroughly, his hands on my hips, his groin slapping into my backside. He made no attempt to touch my clit. This wasn’t about making me come, I understood: this was about him taking his pleasure of me - and it was about me loving that. It was about restoring the balance of power between us to the place it had been at the start. Where he liked it.

When I heard the sound of a car engine coming toward us I quivered and almost tried to break position. Michael put one hand on the centre of my back and pushed me down firmly against the hot steel. I didn’t fight, but sweat broke out all over my skin; inwardly I writhed. What if they recognise us? I howled inwardly. What if they’re local to the Grange and they know exactly who we are and they see me being fucked by my boss; fucked from behind; fucked like a cheap slut in my shiny high-heels on a public road?

Gradually the sweep of their headlights over the beetling hedges pushed back the night. They were going to come up on us from behind, I realised. There was no chance they’d miss us behind the bulk of the 4x4. They were going to pin us in their headlights and see exactly what was going on; Deverick’s hands biting into my bum as he rammed his meat rhythmically into my willing snatch. I whimpered and thrust back against him; he quickened his pace, his breath coming hard and shallow.

They were coming. There they were. The night was split asunder by light and the roar of the motor was suddenly on top of us as they emerged round the bend. As the headlights swept over us I saw for an interminable moment my hands spread wide on the bonnet and my face reflected in our windscreen, eyes wide and mouth slack. The humiliation was too much to bear; I came, crying out. And as my sex clenched and my arse bucked Michael filled me to overflowing.

Then the car had swept past us. For a moment its brake-lights glowed a frantic crimson, and in the midst of the pulsations of pleasure and shame I wondered if it were about to stop and the passengers leap out for a longer look. Then it was gone around another bed, and we were alone again.

Without any hurry Michael withdrew, wiping his turgid prick on my buttocks before tidying himself away. I didn’t move. Not until there was a soft flash of light and he leaned back over me to show me the screen of his cell phone and the close-up picture he’d just taken of my rear. It was a small screen but the definition was good; you couldn’t miss the glisten on those plumped-up lips that made it clear this anonymous gash had just been well used. ‘For personal use,’ he said as he flipped my skirt back down over my bum.

Perhaps he meant to be reassuring. There wasn’t really anything I could say to him. Dumbly I turned away, my heels wobbly on the granite chippings as I fumbled for the keypad of the electronic lock on the gate. I heard the engine growl as he slipped his car into gear and eased back onto the road, leaving me to open the gate and set off down the drive in nearly complete darkness. I welcomed it. I welcomed the silence. I wanted to be invisible.

Michael’s calling card slipped wetly down the inside of my thighs as I walked home.

---

Want to win a copy of Wildwood - as Recommended by Dark Angel Reviews? Thanks to the lovely people in the Black Lace office I have an extra copy to give away this week! All you need do is drop a comment on this post: I'll pick a random winner and announce it in Coming Attractions this Sunday.

xxx

Janine

Buy Wildwood at Amazon UK : Pre-order Wildwood at Amazon US

blog : website

Enchanted - Bear Skin

By Janine Ashbless

Getting published is like waiting for a bus: you wait years for your book to come out and then two appear on the same day! As well as my novel Wildwood, this week also sees the UK publication of the 3-novella collection Enchanted, and my novella Bear Skin appears alongside Olivia Knight’s fantasy The Three Riddles and Leonie Martell’s gothic The People in the Garden.

In keeping with the fairy-tale theme, Bear Skin is a retelling of the Norwegian folk-story East of the Sun, West of the Moon. This is a very old story (it has its roots in the Greek myth of Cupid and Psyche) and it attracted me because it’s a story of a woman going on a quest. I decided to set it in modern-day Britain … which was fun, since it’s about a girl who marries a bear. Yes, a bear. How could I resist a premise that kinky? And how could I get it past the Black Lace editors?

The basic plot of East of the Sun, West of the Moon goes: a young woman agrees to marry a bear who turns up to woo her one day. He’s a very well-spoken and wealthy bear, mind. She goes off to his house and is quite relieved to find that at night the bear turns back into a man; however, she doesn’t know what he looks like because he always comes to her under cover of darkness and no light is allowed in the house. After a few months she pays a visit back to her parents’ house, where her mother and sisters persuade her that she should sneak a look at her husband while he sleeps, and give her a bit of candle. She succumbs to curiosity and finds that her hubby is gorgeous – but he wakes and is furious, because he is under a curse and if she had just held out for a year she would have broken it. As it is, he has to go and marry an evil sorceress/troll who lives "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" and must leave our heroine forever. She is full of remorse but it doesn’t make any difference; he is dragged away to his marriage and she is dumped back home. Our heroine decides to rescue her husband and sets off walking around the world, seeking the way East of the Sun and West of the Moon …

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Here’s an excerpt from fairly early on in Bear Skin. Hazel finds herself trapped in a pitch-black house with Arailt, the talking bear.

Stumbling in the dark, I barked my hip against a sideboard and scrabbled for the connecting door into the library.

‘Are you running from me?’ He didn’t sound angry or gloating, just a little unhappy.

Of course I wasn’t running from him: how could I? I was blind and lost, navigating by luck. He never made a wrong step, moving with heavy grace between the unseen islands of furniture. I had no chance of escape. My retreat was driven solely by instinct.

‘Book-dust,’ he murmured. ‘Printers’ ink and long wet afternoons while the shrubbery drips and the river roars in its bed. You smell of books too, Hazel, but not enough to hide in here.’

I collided with a sofa and it nearly knocked my legs from under me. Gasping, I waited for the sudden rush, the hot breath, the teeth. Nothing happened.

‘Your fear is sharp. I thought … I thought you braver than that.’

His voice was no closer. If he’d intended to catch me, I told myself, he could have done it long ago. I forced myself to straighten up, smoothing down my dress, swallowing the lump that was filling my throat. ‘Well, you’re right. I made you a promise. Come on then.’

I heard him move into the room, his claws scraping on the polished boards then muted on the rug. I breathed deep and let the smell of him fill my nostrils. I heard the wuff of his breath in those heavy jaws and thought, better if he takes me from behind. Turning, I gripped the leather sofa-back with slippery hands and set my feet apart.

He stopped. ‘Is that how you want it?’

‘It’s easier for you this way … I’d have thought.’ I didn’t dare admit that the desire to shield my vulnerable throat and belly was overwhelming. He didn’t reply. But I felt for the first time the moist touch of his nose against the back of my knee, and then that great muzzle pushed up between my thighs, lifting me onto my toes. I gasped. When my heels hit the carpet again I spread them wider, bending at the hips to push my bum out toward him, nearly choking with terror. I felt the hot gusts of his breath on my bottom. With one hand I reached behind me to pull up my flimsy skirt. Then he licked me with his great wet tongue, long enough to lap me from clit to bum-hole in a single stroke, and I cried out, unable to conceal a pleasure so shameful that it could only be confessed under cover of darkness.

Arailt uttered a low rumbling moan and then said, ‘Turn round.’ His voice was thick with urgency; I knew that sound.

I wanted him to lick me again. I was wet to match his mouth. I let out a sob.

‘Turn around.’

I obeyed, tears running unseen down my face.

‘Hazel...’ He rose up suddenly and planted his forepaws to either side of my hips. His fur was damp from the rain. I flinched, shutting my eyes though it made no difference to either of us. His breath smelled of honey, as it had done the day we met.

Oh God, I moaned inwardly, my heart running riot. ‘Arailt,’ my lips whispered as I reached for him, plunging my hand into the soft pelt of his chest – and encountered smooth skin. For a moment I froze, speechless. Under my moving palm the fur parted as if along a seam, and I slid my hand beneath it down a hard musculature: pecs and flat breastbone, the torso of a man. I touched his forelimb and the fur fell away to disclose an elbow, a hard bicep, a shoulder. ‘Oh God – What-’

Arailt’s fingers covered my lips, pressing the words back. ‘No questions, ever,’ he whispered in my ear, his voice the bear’s voice and a man’s voice, the same as it always had been. Fingers, not claws or paws, I thought – and then they were withdrawn and his mouth took their place and any questions I had were stolen from my lips along with my breath as he kissed me. He tasted of honey, and of my sex. I ran my fingers along his jaw and felt stubble a week old but no fur, then down his throat and found his Adam’s apple. His lips were hungry, his kisses laden with intent, but his teeth were not like shears. When he caught my bottom lip between them he drew no blood, only a leaping stab in my heart and a low cry from my throat.

Gently, he released my mouth. I passed one hand over his face. His eyelids trembled under my fingertips. He kissed the palm of my hand. ‘Arailt,’ I repeated as if it were a spell, a word of profound magic.

My other hand slid across his shoulder and I felt the bear-pelt finally slip from his back, heavy as sodden velvet, heavy as a bear-hide would be with skin and fat still adhering, sliding to the carpet. Underneath he was naked. Christ but he was a big man – not anything like as big as a brown bear of course, but broad-shouldered and solid with muscle. He made me feel fragile. I felt his strength as he put his arms about me and pressed up against me, his skin hot on mine. His strength – and his desire. He was immensely aroused and his erection was insistent. His lips sought me out again, needing no light. For a moment we clung together, face to face, breath mingling. ‘Not too much of a disappointment, I hope?’ he asked, laughter bubbling under his words.

‘No.’ Suddenly, out of nowhere, I began to shake.

‘Don’t be like that.’ His hand cupped my face and encountered the wet smear of my tears. ‘Hey, my Hazel; is it so bad?’

‘Just a shock.’ My voice was quivering too. I’d steeled myself for the bear; I’d been ready for him. I was not ready for a man. I hadn’t been for months. There was an intimacy and a danger in the man’s embrace that there could never be in Arailt as a bear, I realised. A bear, even a talking bear, can only treat you like meat: it takes another human being to treat you like shit.

‘Oh God,’ I gasped; ‘oh God…’

‘It’s okay…’

Was it? Was it okay to yield to him now? I couldn’t get him and the bear straight in my head. Heart racing, I ran my palm down his chest, smoothing the slight roughness of his body hair, all the way to his groin. He had a lovely big cock with a velvety foreskin, hot in my nervous hand. ‘You’re real!’ - it came out as a hiccup and a giggle.

‘Too right,’ he said with fervent delight, folding his hand around mine, guiding my grip on his member up and down the shaft.

‘Oh…’

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Want to read on? This excerpt continues on my blog.

Buy at Amazon UK : Pre-order at Amazon US

And if you want to win a free copy - just drop a comment on this post before Sunday and I'll pick a winner at random. Go on - I'm being so generous this week I'm going to need a little lie down.

The watercolour illustrations of the original fairytale, by the way, are by Danish artist Kay Nielsen (who contributed artwork to the original Fantasia movie). More of his wonderful fairytale paintings are archived here.

xxx
Janine
Blog : Website

Wildwood - out this week

by Janine Ashbless

My new Black Lace novel Wildwood is out in the UK this Thursday! It’s a contemporary paranormal about rival ritual magicians, the English countryside, scary fairies, a love-triangle and of course SEX. Lots of that. And by the end, well, I haven’t brought human civilisation to crashing ruin but let’s just say it’s not far off.

So here I am to tell you a bit about this novel in the hope you’ll rush out and buy it … Or at the very least enter the draw below to win a copy.

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Personal Background to writing Wildwood:

This isn’t something I’ve talked about online before, but about 15 years back I went through a fairly serious bout of depression ("Fairly serious" as in, I didn’t actually end up dead). This is far from uncommon – especially, I suspect, among creative types. Luckily I had a doctor who told me to change my life and a partner who supported me in doing so. I quit my well-paid job and swore I’d never work in an office again.

As I recovered I decided I needed to work outdoors, so I got into practical conservation volunteering, attained my chainsaw certification, and finally launched into a 3-year diploma course in Amenity Forestry – looking after trees in parks, gardens and cities.

This was just a little weird because I was the oldest person on the course, the only female and the only one with any sort of prior college background. I had to keep up with a bunch of 18-year old lads putting up fences, climbing ropes, and cutting down trees. Oh, and swearing. Boy did my spoken language suffer! I learned a lot about what I could make myself do in the face of fear and exhaustion, if I was determined. And I came out at the end with the "best on the course" prize and a serious need to stop using the word "fuck" as punctuation.

Did I end up with a long-term career in woodland conservation like I planned? Did I hell. Those jobs are rare as hens’ teeth. I moved into museum work and then finally became a writer, where at last I feel at home.

But when it came to writing Wildwood I could draw on my knowledge and love for trees, and I could write the character of Avril – individualistic, determined, aware she stands out like a sore thumb - and quite possibly Black Lace’s only chainsaw-wielding romantic heroine. Of course she’s taller, stronger, cuter, tougher and less geeky than me, but that’s what fantasy fiction is about!

"You crave respect, Avril, but at the same time you want to be the most monumental slut." – Michael Deverick

The Plot:

Avril Shearing is a landscape gardener and arborist brought in to restore an overgrown country estate for the handsome and manipulative Michael Deverick. He seems very keen on her exploring a particular patch of ancient woodland for him.

But inside the wood lurks a tribe of environment activists led by the enigmatic Ash, who regards Michael as a mortal enemy. Avril soon discovers that there is more going on than meets the eye. Creatures that belong in dreams or nightmares emerge after dark to prowl the estate grounds, and hidden in the heart of the wood is something that Michael wants at any cost and Ash is determined to keep him away from. The two men are ritual magicians locked in a deadly battle for the Wildwood, and as Avril is drawn into their fight it becomes a battle for Avril herself.

And she wants them both. She disapproves of Michael but is drawn into his mindgames and can’t resist his sexual hunger despite her better judgement. She really likes Ash but he keep pushing her away and sends the most incredibly mixed messages – at one moment they are in each other’s arms but the next he treats her as an enemy.

How far will Michael go to get his way? Which man will she choose? And what lies in the heart of the Wildwood that is so important – to everyone?




The Men of The Wildwood

This is my photo-model for Michael Deverick – a wealthy stockmarket trader and 200-year-old magus. He believes in a world without rules. Vain, clever, manipulative and absolutely ruthless, he makes it his mission to push Avril’s boundaries, whatever they are. If there’s something she doesn’t want to do, he is determined to change her mind.

Good points: generous, sexually inventive, GSOH.

Bad points: he kills people who get in his way.

Michael in Action:

But when he arrived on my doorstep an hour later there was a woman with him. At least, it looked like a woman at first.

‘Who’s this?’ I demanded.

Michael leaned casually against the door so that she could slip past me. She was short – only up to my shoulder – and slight, with long black hair that looked like it had just come out of a swimming pool. ‘This is … Jenny. You can call her that.’ He stalked into the hallway. ‘I found her by the pond.’

‘What are you playing at?’ I was wearing only a light silk dressing-gown, which I wrapped around me self-consciously as I followed them back into the house. ‘Did you hear a single bloody word I said?’

‘Oh, I heard.’ Michael stood in the middle of my living room floor. Jenny had climbed onto one end of the sofa and was watching us from under hooded lids. She was wearing a dark green slip dress that seemed to be wringing wet even though I was certain it wasn’t raining out there. ‘You are extremely clear about the things you want. You’d like nice, fun, discreet sex with someone you like, who’ll treat you with respect and never ever interfere with the rest of your life. Am I right?’

My jaw sagged. ‘So why do you go out of your way to do just the opposite?’

Michael gave an infuriating smirk. ‘Do I?’

‘You know you do.’

‘And do you enjoy that bad sex with me?’

‘I hate it.’ My voice didn’t carry much conviction.

‘So much that you can’t wait for the next time. So much that you’d get on your hands and knees and beg for it if I told you to. You’re wet right now, and all I’ve done is walk into the house.’ He walked around me, hands in his pockets, and I couldn’t refute him. ‘What does that tell you about what you really want, Avril? What does that tell you about your rules?’

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t look him in the eye.

‘The barriers are all in your mind, Avril. You don’t need to fear what’s on the other side. All I’m doing is helping you break out.’

‘Right. They used to have a word for that.’

‘Liberation?’

‘Corruption.’

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This is Ash, the tattooed "ginger Rasta" who is camped out in the Wildwood, trying to defend its secret from Michael. He’s a ritual magician too, and a lot older than he looks, and very conflicted. Not unnaturally he suspects that Avril is a tool of his enemy, being used against him magically, so despite being desperately attracted to her he can’t trust her. On the other hand, she is his only hope to defeat Michael so he has to persuade her to his side...

Good points: he’s trying to save the world, even if it kills him.

Bad points: a bit self-righteous

Ash in Action:

It didn’t deter him from his mission of taking me back to my cottage. He didn’t ask permission this time to enter, either, steering me right through to the bathroom. My blood leaped hopefully as he reached over and turned on the shower. ‘You’ve got to wash, Avril.’

‘Join me?’ I suggested, easing off my shoes.

Ash smiled and shook his head. ‘Come on.’

I stuck my lower lip out and backed up against the door-frame, refusing to oblige. I wanted to feel his hands on me and his skin against mine; there was an ache like hunger in my belly. ‘Make me,’ I said with a quick grin.

With a sigh, Ash began to slip the shirt buttons down my breastbone. I didn’t resist. I bit my lip and watched his face, fascinated, as he undressed me. He was acting like a responsible bloke looking after a very drunk female friend, all detached self-deprecating concern. I liked that, in a strange way. I liked the gentleness of his hands too, and the way he took his time. I liked the way he had to keep reminding himself to look away from my breasts as he slid the shirt off my shoulders and undid the webbing belt cinched at my waist. I liked the line of his lips and the fall of his hair against his cheek and the glint of the rings in the red-gold of his eyebrow. I wanted so much to touch him. But I didn’t dare, not after the mess I’d made of things last time.

Out of nowhere, tears welled up in my eyes. Christ; I am drunk, I thought in amazement.

The bathroom was starting to fill with steam.

Softly he let the trousers slip down from my hips and pool on my feet. There I was standing against the doorframe, naked but for my wine-red knickers, yet it was the desire in my expression that was the most shamelessly naked thing about me. His fingertips brushed my hip and he caught his breath. As he lifted his eyes to mine I saw my longing mirrored there, its edge as keen and cruel as my own.

‘Avril.’ The word was inaudible; I saw only the movement of his lips.

Oh God - I was on the verge of begging, and I mustn’t do that. ‘I dream about you,’ I told him, and something flickered in the depths of his eyes.

‘Do you?’

‘Do dreams matter?’

‘They can do. Depends what you dream.’

‘I dream we’re in the wood. It’s always the wood. Why’s that?’

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So that’s Wildwood. It seems to have taken forever to have got to the shops, but I’m so proud to see it finally born! I’ll be running a longer, hotter excerpt in our August Smutslot on the 29th, but if you can’t wait there is an rather rude excerpt (featuring more of Jenny-from-the-pond) here in my blog archive. Or you could always buy the book…

Buy on Amazon UK : Pre-order on Amazon US

If you read and like it, please do me a favour and post an Amazon review!

Competition! I have one copy of Wildwood to give away this week. Just drop a comment on this post telling me which is your favourite tree and by the weekend I’ll pick a random winner.

xxx
Janine

Blog : Website

Magic and Desire: US release

By the time this post goes up the 3 novella collection Magic and Desire will officially be available to buy in the US. Hooray! All three authors – Portia da Costa, Olivia Knight and Janine Ashbless – are longtime contributors to Lust Bites. To celebrate this publication we’ve got little teaser extracts for you from all three stories. Different styles, different settings (one contemporary, one fantasy, one historical), different plays of light and dark … but all three themed around sex and the supernatural.

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First, Ill Met By Moonlight by Portia da Costa: a romantic tale of a shape-shifting fairy who longs to participate in human passion. In this extract Lois is musing on the beach after a sticky night of fairy-induced erotic dreams…

Without thinking, she clasped her hand to her crotch, squeezing, trying to ease the ache. Pressing and massaging, she stared up at the strange dark seagull, watching it execute a graceful diving spiral, almost in response to her action. Then she looked down again, observing her own pale hand against the stonewashed cloth of her jeans and wishing it were another hand. One that was bigger and stronger and totally male.

Imagining him behind her, she moaned, longing for it to be his great body on which she leant while she took her pleasure, longing for his arms to enfold her and gentle her through the spasms.

‘Oh! Oh, God!’ Crying out, she came in a sudden rush, out of the blue, dimly hearing the gull shriek too, as if applauding her or even sharing her crisis.

Still clutching herself, she wrapped her other arm around her torso, hugging and rocking.

She didn’t hear the heavy trudging footsteps until it was too late and, when they did penetrate her haze, she looked straight up into the frowning face of her next-door neighbour.

‘Are you all right?’

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Now an excerpt from The Dragon Lord by Olivia Knight: a fantasy epic of a princess, a desperate quest and some seriously dangerous dragons. In this extract the imprisoned Princess Nina turns the tables on her two guards…

Her hands were in their hair. Between them her hips rose and fell. Hugo wriggled closer to her, her thighs hot against her cock, her body radiating warmth like the summer sun. Vario groaned and Hugo opened his eyes to see his friend suckling hungrily. Their eyes met.

Whatever tide of desire was carrying them, they were both aware of what they were doing, and knew it. They watched each other’s mouth working softly at her nipples, which glistened and disappeared. Her hands pressed lightly on the backs of their heads and they leant forwards willingly. Their lips, hot from her skin, joined. Their cocks bounded in unison against her as their mouths opened and their kiss deepened. Each slid a thigh between hers, shifting to rub harder against her as their tongues delved. When they pulled back their breath was short, their eyes dark with confusion. Her soft smile said it was all fine and they bent to kissing her again, moving more freely, their hands clasping and unclasping, brushing over each other as they rolled and wound around her.

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Lastly an excerpt from The House of Dust by Janine Ashbless: a dark tale of humiliation, vengeance and a descent into the Land of the Dead. In this extract Ishara and Nergal, who hate each other, have to have ritual sex in front of the whole city…

Nergal says nothing. A fire burns in his black eyes and I think that fire would consume me if it could. I reach out and draw the cloak from his shoulders to reveal the body beneath. He is naked of course, and my heart jumps in my breast to see that even so he is unimpeachably regal in form and proportion. His cock, heavy though not yet full erect, jerks a little. Turning, I rub myself against him, my buttocks to his crotch. I find it easier if I don’t have to meet his eyes and there is genuine pleasure in the undulation of my spine and the writhing of my hips. I like it that the people of Uruk can see me like this.

Lazily, Nergal reaches round and cups one breast. My nipple responds to his touch instantly. His pinch would be cruel in other circumstances but right now it only inflames me and I press my rounded rump into him with a cry. With his other hand Nergal pulls off my gown; I hear a sigh go up from the people. His fingers find the cleft between my legs and enter just far enough to sample my wetness. Then suddenly he spins me back round to face him. There’s a half-smile on his lips. Hands on my shoulders, he pushes me to my knees.

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And now for the book giveaway! But we’re not offering a copy of Magic and Desire, because we really want you to buy that! So we’re giving away a copy of the paranormal short story anthology Love on the Dark Side, which contains a contribution from each of us (as well as a host of other Lusties past and present): The Black Knight by Olivia, Sun Seeking by Janine, and Watching the Detective by Portia. All you have to do is drop a comment (with identifying name of some sort) on this post and we’ll pick someone at random to win a copy: results in Coming Attractions this Sunday. You don't have to say anything clever -"Gosh, I would like free book" will do!

xxx
Janine Ashbless

Buy Magic and Desire at: Amazon US : Amazon UK

Midsummer Erotic Haiku Competition

~ Winners announced 1 July 2008, here ~

by Olivia Knight

Heaped erotic books,
Slow days and hot nights: petals
on a firm flesh bough

With seventeen beats –
Five-seven-five – you force our
Gasps: come, take your prize.

Multiple offerings:
Brief, fierce, repeated stabs at
Mastering our small form.

Riding generous waves
We offer our gifts to you
Again and again.

Or, in plain old prose: look at the lovely books! Dazzle us with your erotic haikus to win them! All of them! You can try as many times as you like! We’re so generous we have three prizes, for first, second and third place!

The rules:
• All haikus must have 17 syllables: 5 in the first line, 7 in the second line, 5 in the third line. No breaking words up across lines! That's syllables, not words, mind: erotic has 3 syllables; haiku has 2 syllables; prize has 1 syllable.
• Write as many haikus as you like: the prizes will be for individual haikus.
• Spoof and joke haikus are welcome. They might even win.
• If anyone says “tis” “tween” or other naffisms, I will shoot them. This isn’t a Lust Bites rule, just my own homicidal tendencies.
• The competition will be open until Friday 27 June; winners will be announced in Coming Attractions on Tuesday 1 July.

The prizes:

First prize
• Magic and Desire by Portia da Costa, Janine Ashbless, and Olivia Knight
• Southern Spirits by Edie Bingham
• Gothic Heat by Portia da Costa
• Phantamagoria by Madelynne Ellis
• Chilli Heat by Carrie Williams
• Standish by Erastes
• Hotbed by Portia da Costa
• Amanda’s Young Men by Madeline Moore
• Cruel Enchantment by Janine Ashbless

Second prize
• Magic and Desire by Portia da Costa, Janine Ashbless, and Olivia Knight
• Southern Spirits by Edie Bingham
• Gothic Heat by Portia da Costa
• Phantamagoria by Madelynne Ellis

Third prize
• Magic and Desire by Portia da Costa, Janine Ashbless, and Olivia Knight
• Southern Spirits by Edie Bingham

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Technovirgin? Here's what to do!
• To see this post & people’s comments on the same page, click the title at the top of the post.
• To comment… • Click Post a comment. • Write in the box under Leave a comment. • In the Word verification box, type the funny word above: this proves you’re a person, not a machine. • Under Choose an identity, click Name. Write any name you like – but give us a name, so we can identify you as the winner! • Click Publish your comment. • To get back to the post, click on the title again at the top of the page.

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Reason Enough

by Megan Hart

It's available now!

Reason Enough, featuring the hero/heroine Elle and Dan from my Harlequin Spice release, "Dirty", is now available as an electronic download from Spice Briefs! This short story can also be read by those who haven't read "Dirty".

The Blurb:

Elle and Dan haven’t quite achieved their goal of having sex in every room of their new house--but almost! Marriage hasn’t dampened their hunger for one another in the least, and their relationship is as hot and passionate as ever. But when Dan brings up the subject of having a baby together, Elle finds herself conflicted. Between her dysfunctional family background and her fear of how a baby might change their life together, Elle’s not sure she’s ready for the big step. Dan doesn’t bring the subject up again, but the issue takes hold in Elle’s mind. And as their frequent lovemaking sizzles with unquenchable desire, Elle’s heart is filled to the brim with love and the longing to give Dan everything.

The Excerpt:

It wasn’t the sort of question I could answer at once, without hesitation. It took me hours to pick out which bathmats to put in our new bathroom. How on earth could I decide in one split moment if I should agree to have a baby?
“Yes? No?” Dan nudged his chin into the curve of my shoulder and neck from behind as his arms slipped around my waist. It made washing the dishes difficult, so I let the greasy pot in my hands slide back beneath the soapy water and leaned back against him. “Maybe?”
“Where did this come from?” I asked, practically, I thought.
Dan’s hands moved up and down my waist and crept below the hem of my shirt to link over my belly. “I was just thinking about it, that’s all.”
“Hmm.” I turned to face him, my hands going behind me to grip the edge of the sink. “A baby is a big responsibility.”
He grinned.
“Dan….” I had nothing to say, really. No real protest.
“Never mind, Elle.” He kissed me. “It’s just something I thought about, that’s all. When you mentioned the pills.”
I’d had a hangnail gone awry. My doctor had prescribed antibiotics to help get rid of the infection. Antibiotics can interfere with the effectiveness of birth control pills. I’d offered to use my mouth on him instead of making love.
“I thought you’d like a blow job.” I heard the slightly cool tone of my voice and imagined the slightly cool expression on my face, to match. “I mean, you usually do.”
Against me, on the places our bodies touched, I imagined heat growing. He pushed his hips forward a little bit to nudge a definite bulge against my stomach. He kissed me again, our mouths opening, and his hands gripped tighter on my waist.
“You know I do,” Dan murmured against my lips.
“Here? In the kitchen?” I raised a brow but kept my mouth from the smile threatening to tip it. “How shocking.”
“Shock me.”
We’d only been in the new house, our first together, for a few months. We hadn’t yet made love in every room – though not for lack of effort. I let my hand slide to his belt buckle. I tugged it open, moving his body as I did.
Dan let out a small grunt. “Use your mouth on me, right here.”
It would kill my knees, that tile floor, but I didn’t protest. I liked sucking Dan’s cock. He thought he was lucky. I was the lucky one, though. Lucky I’d found him, and that he loved me.
Luckier I loved him back.
I pushed him, not too gently, until he took a couple steps back. I unzipped his dark trousers, his work clothes, and pulled them over his hips. I went to my knees as I pushed the cloth over his thighs and down to his ankles. His cock tented the front of his soft boxer briefs, and I got rid of those, too.
I looked at him for a minute with my hand on the base of his prick. I licked my mouth to wet my lips, and Dan’s hands slid into my hair. Not pulling, not pushing. He was waiting for me to move. He could be patient if he had to be. If I made him.
I tilted my head to take him in as deep as I could. The groan of his response thrilled me. Sucking Dan was about him, but it affected me, too. My nipples tightened. My clit rubbed against my panties, and I reached with the hand not holding Dan to pull my skirt up my thighs. My knees protested the cold, hard tile without the cushion of my skirt, but I ignored the sensation. My fingers crept under the skirt to touch, just once, the silk between my legs.
“Yes,” Dan said. “Touch yourself.”
I didn’t answer, my mouth being occupied with other tasks. I sucked him a little harder, my lips closing over the head of his cock and meeting. Like a kiss. A second later, the pause so brief it was hardly there, my mouth opened again and I took him down the back of my throat. Up again, this time with one hand following and the other rubbing the front of my panties.
Dan’s fingers slid deeper into my hair, and he pulled out the spring-clip I’d used to keep it up. Dark lengths tumbled around my shoulders. I smelled the shampoo I’d used that morning when I’d bound it up, still damp. He finger-combed it, careful not to pull too hard as my head moved under his hands.
His breath hitched, in and out, faster. It wouldn’t take long for him to come. The question was, how long would it take me?

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Want to win your own free download of Reason Enough? Comment to this entry and I'll choose one winner by Friday, June 13th! Good luck, and thanks for reading!

Black Latex with Lauren Wissot

by Olivia Knight

Black Lace writers may be scarlet harlots to Barbara Cartland, but our big bad brother makes us look sweet-sixteen at times. Nexus is also erotica and also an imprint of Virgin Publishing. If we’re Black Lace, though, they’re Black Latex with a strap-on and a whip. Lauren Wissot has emerged from the basement to give us the low-down on writing for Nexus, S&M, and her book Under My Master’s Wing.

Lauren on... the difference between a Black Lace novel with spanking and a Nexus novel
This strikes me as a difference in semantics, in marketing strategy, packaging, as opposed to actual content. Black Lace is "written for women by women," whereas Nexus primarily targets the (hetero) male audience. But I've been around kinky people long enough to know that such distinctions are usually meaningless. Take for example the whole CFNM ("clothed female naked male") fetish, which I just recently discovered. Both a straight client of mine at Pandora's Box, the house of domination where I work part-time, and one of my best gay buddies jerk off to the same CFNM sites! To separate sexuality into male/female, gay/straight binaries seem simple-minded at best.

Lauren on... Nexus guidelines
Black Lace writers are encouraged to have happy endings, not start with bathing women, and apparently - ensure that everyone having sex has a human head. Pity the editor who has to add that stipulation! It has to be the most fabulous guideline I've ever read! (And it goes a long way to explaining why Monty Python originated in the U.K. Save the queen indeed!) Nexus doesn't have any guidelines – at least none that I followed (wink, wink). My wonderful editor Adam Nevill always coaxed me to push the envelope, not to color within any lines. I guess the "guidelines" would be geared more towards word count and keeping within the BDSM genre. (Technically, Nexus Enthusiast is the strand devoted to one specific fetish. My book is considered "female submission," though that's not really a fetish in the sense that ass, leg and foot worship are fetishes. I think Adam is open to fudging strict definitions if he likes a story enough – which I'm very grateful for.)

Lauren on... writing from experience
Most Black Lace writers say they don't do everything they write (unsurprising given all the elves and dragons around lately). As my book's an erotic memoir, I'm the exact reverse. Seriously, I've got a lazy imagination. I'm constantly stealing from real life. In all honesty, I'm not truly an erotica author – I'm a sex journalist. I go into the kinky trenches then come back and report my findings. I don't make anything up, ever. That said, as any documentary filmmaker worth his DV camera will tell you, there is no such thing as "truth." I don't pretend that anything I write is objective or "real" because it's always told through my own subjective eyes. (I've always said that if David, the master in Under My Master's Wings, had written it, it would look nothing like my book.)

Lauren on... S&M and feminism
I know S&M often gets a mixed response on Lust Bites, between the joy of a good spanking and people's anxiety about the potentially abusive roles, BUT: I am nearly evangelical about S&M (and fellow film-producing proselytizers should contact me at laurenvile@yahoo.com!) Anyone who's ever been in the scene knows that it's very much like a religion (with its own rituals and rules like most religions. Ever wonder why so many good Catholic schoolboys are into caning?) There's a spirituality involved in communing with another through power-play. At the same time, I'm also fully aware that S&M, like religion, can mask abuse. I'm not embarrassed to admit that my relationship with my master ended at the time I began to feel like an emotional punching bag – nor that I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. I learned so much as a slave, experienced that exhilarating freedom inherent in giving oneself completely over to another, and grew both mentally and emotionally by leaps and bounds, that even the hardest times were worth it. That feminism should even be concerned with BDSM in the year 2008 seems a bit antiquated since S&M transcends both gender and sexuality – it's all about tops and bottoms, dominants and submissives. The categories of male, female, gay and straight don't even exist in this world. (My relationship with my master was homosexual, if anything. It was the first time in my life my male sexuality was able to express itself through my female form.) Yes, some people are harmed by BDSM. Some people are harmed by Judaism, by the Catholic Church. That's the nature of worship – and why you can't do it blindly.

Lauren on... Under my Master's Wings
Under My Master's Wings is my erotic memoir about my time spent as the personal slave to a gay-for-pay stripper (and would be gay porn star). It details the first year of our long-distance relationship (David is French-Canadian, I'm a New Yorker). We were together for six years, so I still have five more books waiting to be published!

Lauren on... her favourite scene from the book
My favorite scene (yes, I'm forever thinking like a screenwriter) was the longest night of my life. After defiantly agreeing to a threesome with David and his wife (she being told I was an escort he'd ordered for them) at their hotel, I cleansed myself of sexual remorse by going to the Gaiety strip club, picking up a hot dancer and his friend, and ending the evening in a second ménage a trois – two floors above where my master and his wife slept. It's my favorite scene because one of the worst nights of my life was also one of the funniest in retrospect, proving that that which does not destroy you can make you laugh.

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Picture credits: 1. Tomb Raider models Lucy Clarkson, Lara Weller, Jill de Jong, Nell McAndrew, and current Tomb Raider girl Karima Adebibe at their 2007 London Photoshoot. 2. Lauren Wissot 3. Postcard from PostSecret 4. Cover of Under My Master's Wings.

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Comment to win a copy of Lauren's book! Lauren will also dip in during the day to answer any questions.

LADY SUN HAS RISEN: Nothing Says Springtime like Sex-Magic…

by Teresa Noelle Roberts
Then a crazy notion popped into Miryea’s head, and she went with it because talking about sex seemed far preferable to letting her mind wander even further down paths of self-doubt, or worrying about the possibility of slavers. “We’re going to be in Thelana for the Spring Equinox rites. Want to see if we can find out what their festival is like?” She felt a shimmer of excitement at the idea of being the newcomer in some insular village--inhabited, since it was her daydream, by unusually handsome, well-endowed single men as randy as the goats they herded, but a great deal cleaner. She didn’t know about Thelana, but in Yareth, it was considered especially good luck to lie with a new acquaintance on the Equinox, a particularly powerful offering to Lady Sun and the Lord of Grain. What a Spring Equinox she and Velari could have, with men lining up to entertain them!
Lady Sun Has Risen.



When you think about spring, you probably think about flowers. Brilliant green grass. Tiny chartreuse leaves unfurling on the trees. Birds on the wing. Newborn lambs gamboling in the field, if you live in an area where you see that kind of thing (or “ORDER YOUR EASTER LAMB TODAY” at the grocery store or butcher shop if you’re in a more urban area).






Easter’s bound to come to mind. For some people, it’s a solemn religious holiday, but for a lot of us, what we associate with Easter are the playful trappings: dyed eggs, bunnies, chocolates and jelly beans, baby chicks whether real or marshmallow.

You know what almost all of that imagery has in common?

Fertility. New life.

And you what leads to new life? You guessed it: sex. In the case of trees and grass and flowers, it’s rather dull sex, windborne sex or sex requiring insect interference, but face it, there’s a lot of fertility being carried on those soft spring breezes. (Or, as I’ve been known to say when my pollen allergies are especially bad, “Someone make those trees stop fucking in my air!”) And granted chocolates and jelly beans don’t have all that much to do with sex, but the chocolates, at this time of year, are shaped like those fertile rabbits, and the jelly beans look like tiny eggs, so the fertility symbolism holds.


In western European pagan traditions, May Day and Midsummer were traditionally connected with a certain amount of sexual license. That tradition, being heaps of fun, lasted long after paganism was officially supplanted by Christianity. (A Midsummer Night’s Dream got its name for a reason.) You don’t hear so much about sex magic on the Spring Equinox, though maybe because in much of western Europe, it can still be cold and nasty in mid-March.

Nothing on where I grew up, though. A village just north of my old hometown had five feet of snow dumped on it on March 1, and I’ve known it to snow in May in my old stomping grounds. Even though I’m now living in a slightly less vicious climate, spring’s still semi-mythical to me, and I’m fascinated with spring flowers, spring folklore—and of course, being me, spring’s sexual side.

Maybe that’s why, when I went to write Lady Sun Has Risen, a novella that involves springtime and sex-magic and pagan rites, I set it in a slightly warmer climate. In my imaginary Soranian Empire, it’s really spring by the vernal equinox. Lady Sun has returned to her partner the Lord of Grain, and as the goddess and god celebrate their reunion, so do mortals.

Basically by shagging anyone who’s agreeable; all rules and restrictions other than “Make sure everyone involved has fun” are set aside for the day. (Sounds better than chocolate bunnies and Easter egg hunts, doesn’t it? Maybe we should start our own religion. We can keep the chocolate bunnies—for energy!)

Miryea, a female physician, thinks her interest in sexy, infuriating half-nomad Adimir is a case of opposites attracting. Nothing serious could come of their attraction, but a fling with Adimir sounds like the perfect way to celebrate Spring Equinox.

Adimir has no problem with this plan, especially since he's already figured out Miryea's just the kind of woman he likes—a strong woman who melts for spanking and rough-and-tumble foreplay.

But the gods have a little more in mind for them than just another Equinox celebration—even if there are a few differences to overcome first.

He pulled her closer to him. “Who’s going to keep you safe from a wicked barbarian Kulchu if you go wandering off in the forest like this?”

She felt a flash of terror, then saw his smiling face, felt his free hand caress down her spine to cup her bottom. She smelled the heat of his body, slightly sweaty, yet clean, and very male, almost drowning out the earthy, green smells of spring and the bitter, sharp scent of bonestrength. She could practically taste his skin, the salt and musk of it. The only thing in real danger, she reasoned, was her common sense—and that was already a lost cause. Adimir might be imperious, arrogant, condescending—but he was also the most handsome man she’d ever seen, pure walking sex, and if he wanted to kiss her, she wasn’t going to resist.

In fact, she closed her eyes, raised her face, anticipating his lips on hers.
The kiss was all she could have imagined and more. Hot, yet sweet and mouthwatering, like the chili-laced tamarind candy she bought whenever she found it in the marketplace.

She’d been kissed before—before now, she’d have said she’d been kissed fairly competently and thoroughly--but this was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. It shot through her body, pulsing in her nipples, waking butterflies in her belly. Lighting a fire between her legs.

She couldn’t wait to find out what happened next. Would he kiss her until she was melting like butter over the fire, or would he move more quickly, reaching for her aching breasts, her moist, heavy sex? Either would have its merits, although she hoped he didn’t move too fast, leaving her trailing behind him.

What he did next, though, was nothing she could have anticipated.

He pulled his hand back and smacked her ass.

The force of the blow would have made her stagger except for his firm grip on her wrists. She squeaked, more from surprise than pain, tried to squirm away. Shocked, and drunk on sensation from the kiss, she was slow to react, her body sending mixed signals to her brain--was this pain or pleasure?

The second thwack made her knees buckle, and the third was just as forceful. By the third, though, she’d found her voice, if not the coordination to fight back effectively in any other way, and exclaimed, “Stop it!”

“That should teach you to be more sensible,” he snarled, giving her one last thwack, as if carried by momentum.

Like the spankings her grandmother had administered when she was much younger, these smacks were more loud and startling than painful.

But being spanked by a handsome beast of half-Kulchu male was a very different experience.

These swats left more than her bottom throbbing.

Her breasts, her sex, and everything in between, already sparked to life by the kiss, tingled with excitement. Her ass throbbed rhythmically, but it was far more pleasurable than painful. The rhythm of sex, in fact. She felt herself swelling, moistening.

Lady, she’d have to change her salvar at this rate! And it wasn’t even as though he’d been roughhousing with her in a flirtatious way, reverting to that stage of life where boys tormented girls to show their interest. No, the arrogant fool was acting like he was her father and she was a child who needed discipline. He’d even called her “little rabbit,” like her own father had.

And still she wanted him, even though he was treating her like a child. Was she insane?

Maybe, and certainly her self-respect wouldn’t thank her later, but for the moment, all she could think about was impressing upon him that she was no little girl to be teased and scolded and spanked, but a grown woman.

A woman with needs that he’d awakened.

A woman who’d show him what she was made of.

With a barely suppressed moan, she pressed herself against Adimir, moving like a cat in heat so he’d feel her curves, know that he hadn’t been dealing with a child. Then, she figured, once he started to show interest, she’d spurn him, salvage her pride, and make it clear that if he wanted her, he’d have to court her properly, not kiss her and smack her as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted.

Except that he was already showing interest, in the form of a hard cock jutting proudly against her.

A large cock hard and eager enough to let her know that the kiss had excited him as much as it had her, and that he hadn’t been thinking “fatherly” when he’d spanked her, any more than she’d been thinking “daughterly.”

Lady Sun Has Risen is available at Phaze Books. But if you’d like to win some hot springtime spanking and sex-magic to enliven the last weeks of winter, leave a comment below.

Did I mention that Adimir’s people’s version of the Equinox ritual involves spanking and a little dominance and submission? I tell you, we should start a religion! Chocolate bunnies and kinky sex for everyone!

(Flowers and flowering tree courtesy of FreeFoto. Cartoon spanking courtesy of SarahThorne.com.)