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31.10.07

SPLIT PERSONALITY

A Day in the Life of Carol Lynne


As a wife and mother, it’s often difficult to separate my private life from my professional one. I’ve developed a sort of split personality, mother one minute, erotic romance author the next. One personality lives in the land of milk and honey, while the other lives in the land of milk and Cheerios. Most days, I’m able to find a balance between the two, but some days one personality becomes dominant and all hell breaks loose. What you are about to read is a peek inside both personalities.

8 A.M. - My day starts with my handsome lover, Gino, waking me with kisses down my spine. Rolling over, I grin and whisper, “Good morning, love.” He smiles back before continuing his daily quest to worship me in every way.

9 A.M. - Finally, we both decide its time to get up and start our day. As I take a shower, Gino goes down to fix my morning cappuccino from the expensive machine he bought just because he loves me.

9:45 A.M. - Sitting down at the sunny breakfast table, I sip my frothy brew as I nibble on strawberries and croissants. The day is starting just the way I like it. Gino comes into the room, fresh from his shower, and I stand to help him straighten his tie. “You look handsome this morning, lover,” I say as I stand on tip-toes to kiss him. Gino has other ideas and pulls me higher, his large hands on my ass as he devours my mouth. Giggling, I swat his chest. “You’re going to be late again.” Gino swears I’m more important than the visiting dignitaries he’s meeting with that morning. I swoon and tell him I’ll see him later. After a few more kisses, I finally get him out the door.

10 A.M. – As I sit in the outdoor gazebo, fresh cappuccino at my side, my day as a writer officially begins. The words flow as fast as my fingers can type. The sex scenes so steamy I’m forced to take off my jacket a short time later.

Noon – I’ve become so wrapped up in my story, I’m not even aware of the time, until Gino calls to remind me to eat lunch. He’s such a thoughtful man, promising to bring home dinner because he knows I’m on a deadline. I talk to him as I make a nice bowl of salad with the homemade vinaigrette Gino makes for me. What would I do without him?

1 P.M. – After lunch, I return to the gazebo, glass of refreshing iced tea in hand. I ease right back into writing mode, and knock out a quick four thousand words before I realize the afternoon has slipped away.

4 P.M. – Shutting down the laptop, I rush inside to take another shower, making sure to use the almond scented body wash Gino likes so much.

5 P.M. – By the time my man walks through the door, Italian take-out in hand, I’m dressed to the nines and ready to begin my evening. “You look absolutely breathtaking,” Gino moans, as he takes me into his arms. “Even an hour away from you is an eternity.”

STOP, put on the brakes. Okay, that’s my dream day. Unfortunately, I live in the real world, with daily drama. The following is a fair account of my real day. I warn you, it’s not pretty.

4:30 A.M. – I manage to open one, blood-shot eye to look at the clock. Okay, I’ve got another thirty minutes of sleep. As I close my eye again, I have these mean little devils that keep poking at me to get up and write their story. Believe me, at 4:30 even the hottest cowboy alive isn’t my friend.

4:45 A.M. – I finally give up on that extra half hour of sleep, and crawl out of bed, usually stubbing at least one toe on a toy left on the floor. I stumble to the bathroom and make the mistake of turning on the light. Okay, I’ve got what only can be described as flash-burn for the next fifteen minutes, great.

5:00 A.M. – I get into my work uniform of sweats and a T-shirt and walk downstairs. First things first, coffee, lots of it. I get down my cup that some in my family describe as a soup bowl, and fill it with hot tap water. Putting it into the microwave, I go into the living room and power up my laptop. At the beep of the microwave, I head back into the kitchen and fix my first cup of Taster’s Choice instant coffee. Yes, you read that right. I’m a woman who drinks coffee from five in the morning until ten at night and I only drink instant. I like it, I can make it as strong or as weak as I want, and every cup is a little different. Nothing like a little variety to spice up my life.

5:10 A.M. – Grab a cigarette and hope like hell it’s not so cold outside that my butt cheeks freeze to the porch step.

5:13 A.M. – I’m ready to start my day. As I read what I wrote the night before, I try to figure out what gremlins have had their way with my story. I must have been really tired. I had absolutely no intention of Cal making love to a heifer. After shaking off my disgust, I correct the love scene, this time adding an actual man. Okay, that makes a lot more sense.

6:45 A.M. – I’m not always sure what really happens between five fifteen and six forty-five. All I know is that quiet peaceful morning I was enjoying is suddenly a thing of the past and it’s time to wake up the girls. Another whole drama over “five more minutes” ensues with me usually getting angry and just turning on the lights and pulling down the covers.

7 A.M. – 7:45 A.M.– My husband comes out of the bedroom in his oh-so-sexy tighty whities and scratches his butt as he tries to cough up a lung, nice. Trying to persuade my oldest daughter that yes, she does in fact love chicken strips this week, and can eat lunch at school for a change. Once I get her off to school, I make another cup of coffee and have another cigarette. One child down, one to go.

8 A.M. – Trying to get back into the middle of a sex scene is hard when I can hear Sponge Bob coming from the kitchen as my youngest eats her morning bowl of cereal.

8:30 A.M. - After ordering her to the basement I have peace and quiet again. Don’t give me that look. It’s not like my basement’s a dungeon or anything. There are toys a plenty down there along with a television. I begin writing the pivotal love scene in the book. It’s always my favorite part.

8:45 A.M. – My concentration is shattered when a little face peers around the corner of my chair asking for a snack. Stopping mid-thrust, I turn to my daughter and remind her that she just finished breakfast fifteen minutes ago. She gives me a sour look and goes back downstairs to get out every Lego and Barbie she has, spreading them liberally around the room.

9:00 A.M. – Another cup of coffee and a much needed cigarette break.

9:05 A.M. – Checking emails, I see that there’s a way to increase the size of my cock. Well, good to know.

9:15 A.M. – Getting back to my wayward characters, I’m once again interrupted by the angelic face asking for a snack. I’m not a bad mother, really I’m not, but occasionally I yell and tell that sweet little girl to grab what she can find as long as she leaves me alone for awhile.

10: A.M. – My stomach rumbles so loud my laptop begins vibrating. I remember I didn’t eat breakfast, so I jump up and fix another cup of coffee and grab a Pop-Tart. Settling back into my chair, I begin again.

11:00 A.M. – Time to get my daughter’s lunch and get her ready for school. By this time, my husband is usually back from feeding cows or mowing hay, and I also fix his lunch.

Noon – Daughter number two is finally off to school and husband number one is getting ready for work. With a fresh cup of coffee, I begin again, only to be interrupted by the phone. It’s one of the hundred or so veterans’ charities wanting yet another donation.

1:30 to 2:45 – Bliss, pure bliss. Everyone is finally gone, and I can really write the steamy stuff. It’s usually my luck that my mother-in-law decides to call and let me know yet again that she’s a better housekeeper than I am. That reminds me that I need to do laundry, which leads to dusting. I usually have just enough time to check my email again, and find out that I’ve won a million dollars in the British Lotto—am I the only one who gets this crap? I happen to pass a mirror and realize not only haven’t I showered, but I haven’t even brushed my hair. Damn, I hope no one saw me the ten times I’ve sat on my porch to smoke a cigarette. I rush upstairs for a quick shower, usually going to pick the girls up from school with wet hair.

My evenings are filled with dinner, homework, housework, and snippets of time to write. From eight-thirty to ten-thirty I get my last chance of the day to create a good day’s worth of work. Usually by this time, my mind is mush, and I end up writing about cowboys and heifers.

Pretty sexy, huh? No wonder I write erotic romance.


Carol's Avatar
Carol Lynne

Latest Release from Carol Lynne:


For twins, Ryker and Ranger Good, life has never been easy. Kicked out of the house when they were barely eighteen, the brothers started a new life, together.

Now in their thirties they are ready to make a commitment, not only to each other but to the woman they’ve waited to claim for four years.
Lilly Bevin has been in love with the Good twin’s for years, only to be treated like a child by them.

Now twenty-one, Lilly’s ready to spread her wings. Working in the town bar is just one of the ways she’s declaring her independence, dating is the other.


When the twin’s find out the woman they want is dating a smarmy hustler they try to talk some sense into her, only to be told to butt out. Now it’s up to them to tame their wildcat and bring her into the fold of their love.

A wildcat, however, has claws and Lilly isn’t shy about using hers to her advantage.

HOT & very ADULT excerpt!

The closer they got to the house, the more Ryker wanted to play. He stole brief kisses and rode with his arm stretched behind Lilly, buried in the depths of Ranger’s black curls. “Will you stay the night?” he finally asked Lilly.

“Yes,” she replied, giving him a kiss.

Ryker could tell she was nervous. Smoothing his palm down her cheek, he kissed her again. “We’ll take it slow. If nothing else it would be heaven just to hold you between us while we sleep.”

“We’ll see how things go. I’ve waited so long nothing seems real.” Lilly worried her lip which Ryker was becoming accustomed to.

He licked the poor offended lip and ran his hand up under her skirt to rest on her thigh. Ryker looked up and caught Ranger watching his every move. He couldn’t tell by the look on Ranger’s face whether he was getting horny or something else. “Sweetheart, I think Ranger’s feeling left out.”

“Oh, we can’t have that,” Lilly said as she turned to kiss Ranger’s jaw. He turned his head slightly and tried to kiss her while keeping his eyes on the road. Ryker smiled when Ranger released a soft moan as they broke the kiss. Knowing Ranger was just as nervous as Lilly was somehow very endearing.

With the mood in the truck shifting into playful, Ryker moved his hand higher under Lilly’s skirt as he began kissing her neck. He smiled against her soft skin as she shifted enough to let him know his actions were welcome. Running his fingers over the lace of her panties he could already feel moisture soaking his fingers. “Mmm,” he moaned.

Ryker looked into her green eyes seeking permission to go even further. Her answer was to open completely for him, hooking one leg over Ranger’s thigh and one leg over his. Ryker rewarded her faith with a deep thrusting kiss as his fingers slipped under the leg of her panties to drag across her slit.

Lilly broke the kiss and tilted her head back as the first of his fingers worked its way inside the creamy depths of her pussy. “Oh God.”

He watched as Ranger fidgeted in his seat as he tried to keep his eyes on the smooth blacktop. “Come on,” he said to Ranger, “you can drive one handed, I know you can.”

With a sideways glance, Ranger removed one hand from the wheel. As soon as Ryker felt Ranger’s fingers slide in beside his, he withdrew and sucked one digit into his mouth. “Holy fuck, you taste good.” He held the other finger in front of Ranger’s mouth.

Ranger opened, seemingly eager for his first taste of Lilly. Ranger sucked his finger like he wanted to take the skin off. “Hey, I didn’t expect to draw back a stub,” Ryker joked.

“Sorry,” Ranger mumbled, releasing Ryker. Ranger looked down at the speedometer, “Ten more miles,” he said, pressing a little harder on the gas.

Whatever Ranger was doing with his hidden hand, seemed to be doing the trick for Lilly as she began to squirm in her seat, panting. Ranger looked over at Ryker. “Rub her clit.”

Unbuckling his seat belt, Ryker grinned. “I can do better than that.” He flipped Lilly’s skirt up as he buried his face against her partially exposed pussy. Running his tongue over the small triangle of closely cropped hair about her slit, he inhaled. “You smell good, sweetheart.”

Lilly answered by reaching down and trying to pull her panties off. Her actions were so frantic and mindless she wasn’t getting anywhere. “Off,” she cried.

Chuckling, Ryker slid her wet panties down her legs and off. He handed the garment to Ranger. “Smell.”

As Ranger inhaled the scent of Lilly’s desire, Ryker went back to her pussy. With his tongue poised at her channel, he thrust deeply into her core.

“Uhh,” Lilly stiffened and grabbed Ryker’s hair.

With his nose pressed against her clit, Ryker began torturing her pussy with his tongue, lapping every ounce of cream her body produced. When her grip tightened even more he slid his tongue up and covered her clit with his lips, sucking and biting down gently.

“Ryker,” she screamed as she came.

Moving back down, Ryker scooped cum from her body with his tongue as he unzipped his jeans. Taking his throbbing cock in hand it only took two strokes for his own orgasm to overtake him.

“Fuck,” Ranger howled.

Ryker looked up in time to see Ranger’s cock empty its seed onto the steering wheel with Lilly’s hand wrapped firmly around it. The smell of sex was so strong inside the truck cab, Ryker’s cock continued to twitch in his fist.

29.10.07

Halloween Releases

This week we are dedicating to Halloween. So, we'll kick off by telling you all about our three releases this week:

Book one in the Club Immortality Series


In Club Immortality everything is not as it seems. Unlocking your inhibitions and being yourself is what the club is all about. In this tale we explore the beginning of Syn and Micah the owners of Club Immortality. They have a lot to tell and have invited you to take a look inside this sensual haven. Remember nothing is off limits and all you have to do is be open to the adventures. Open the doors and step inside Club Immortality...

Very HOT, very ADULT excerpt!

Syn’s heart sped up as he spoke, and her pussy dampened in preparation for his taking. Her voice was hoarse as she replied, “I want your word that if you ever want out you’ll make sure to hide so I’ll never be able to find you. I don’t know what I’d be capable of if you left me and I found you.”

His look went soft then his voice echoed in the room. “I can’t promise you such a thing, Syn. It will take you time to realise the only thing that will take me from your side is death. But you will realise. Even in death, I would come back and find you.”

She opened her mouth to speak.

He cut her off. “Shhh… I’ll give you this vow. If you ever leave me I’ll hunt the ends of the earth for you. When I find you, I will lay you down and take you until you can’t walk, talk or even imagine ever leaving me again.” He raised a hand extending it to her. “Come lay with me Syn.”


Am I ready for this?
She wondered looking at him. If she took him up on what he was asking, it would be giving over a part of herself she had never given. Not even with Jackson. The one part of herself she kept deep inside that no one touched. Watching his impassive face, Syn went with the call of her body. She walked, step over step, swaying her hips until she was right up against him. Reaching him, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around him. Her hands sank into his hair and she pulled him to her.

His kiss was wild and untamed. Moaning, Syn tangled her tongue with his. It was succulent, hot and delicious.

With a mere thought, she stripped them bare. She moaned at the feel of his heated skin against her own. His cock rested against her wet open mound.


With an agile twist, Micah turned and laid her on the edge of the bed. Sliding backward, Syn watched as Micah moved up between her spread legs. Reaching the pillows, she stopped. A gasp ripped from her as he covered her body and sank deep into her aching slit. He pumped fast and strong, hitting all of her secret places with devastating accuracy.

Although slick from her arousal, Syn felt pleasantly stretched as he continued to stroke. It was an overwhelming sensation. She threw her head back, her eyes slamming closed as she grabbed his sweat-drenched back. Her nails sank into him as he stroked within her. His hot breath burned her face. Micah kissed along her neck and face then finally settled into her mouth. His tongue mated with hers in time with his strokes. Digging deeper, she met him on each one

Micahhhh!” Syn cried as he raised her legs up, hitching them higher around his hips.

He sank even deeper, the tip of his cock scraping her womb. It was pleasurable pain. His plunges became frenzied as he pumped harder and faster. Tightening her pussy muscles around him, she shuddered at the way his hardness filled her.

Suddenly, he stilled. Syn whimpered and tried to get him to move.

“Syn!” he cried. The urgency in his velvet voice made her open her eyes to look at him. His lavender eyes dripped with intensity. He started to move. Not fast. Slow and deep. Ripples of pleasure filled her. Her body was burning.

“Yes, oh God, Micah. Please.”

Micah continued to fill her with his slow maddening thrusts. She screamed at the intensity of it. His dark smile only added to the fire. Raising her legs higher on his back, she rotated her hips to counter his motion.

For Rebecca, Halloween has always been special, an opportunity for her to cast off her sensible, ordinary self and assume a new look and a new identity: someone extraordinary, sensual and seductive. When Halloween night finds her stranded by a breakdown in a seedy motel nearly a hundred miles from her friend's annual party, she's terribly frustrated and disappointed. Then she discovers that her room is haunted by the invisible but unquestionably virile ghost of a rake who seduced local women nearly half a century earlier. Gradually, the ghost unmasks Rebecca's secret desires, fulfilling every one. By the time midnight tolls, Rebecca has come face to face with more magic than she had ever imagined.

Very HOT, very ADULT excerpt!

Ah, the liquor. I must be more drunk than I thought. I turned back to the mirror, searching my face for signs of intoxication, and yelped as something, someone, pinched my nipples.


“Hey! That hurts.” Indignation overwhelmed fear.

“It does, at first. But afterwards, it changes, doesn't it? Afterwards, it feels quite delicious.” I stared at my image, mouth hanging stupidly open, as invisible hands caressed my breasts. Strong hands, gentle hands, hands that seemed to know exactly how to make me shiver with delight. “That's what most people don't understand about pain. It's the gateway to the most exquisite pleasure.”

The voice was a melodious baritone, rich, deep, almost hypnotic. “You fear the pain, but that's foolish. You must surrender to the pain. Let it move through you. Let it wash away your doubts and your inhibitions. Let it open you to ecstasy.”

Firm, unseen lips nibbled at my neck. A warm, wet tongue traced the curve from below my ear to my exposed shoulder, then down to the hollow at my throat. With each touch, extravagant new species of pleasure bloomed in my sex. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, savouring the delicate caresses and the amazing sensations that they triggered in my cunt.

Then suddenly, something sharp pierced the rounded flesh of my shoulder. I screamed, surprise heightening the agony that gripped me, and tore myself away from the grasp of the unseen intruder.

My reflection made me gasp in horror and wonder. Droplets of blood oozed from several wounds on my shoulder, wounds arranged in the distinctive semi-circular shape of a bite.

I felt an arm around my waist, pulling me backwards against the unmistakable bulk of a male body. I struggled against his seemingly supernatural strength.

“Let me go!” There were fingers at my back, unlacing and loosening the bodice, working their way into my top.

“Is that really what you want?” A hand snaked into the opening I had left in the voluminous skirts—a slight modification I had made to the pattern. After all, what was the point of wearing a sexy costume if it made you inaccessible?

Cool fingertips wandered up the inside of my thigh, smearing the damp of my secretions into my bare skin. My clit ached in anticipation. A fresh flow of lubrication made my thighs damper still. “I think that you actually want something else.” He found his way into my folds and began massaging the swollen bud at my centre.

I moaned and arched backward, my body taking over while my mind whirled in confusion and disbelief.

“Who—what —are you?” He slid two fingers deep into my sopping cunt, making me writhe.

“Does it matter?” Now his thumb beat rapidly against my clit, while his fingers stroked my depths. His other hand pumped my breast in the same rhythm. I felt the first shimmers of orgasm, far away like heat lightning on the prairie horizon.

“I am who I am, and I know what you want. What you need.” He captured one swollen nipple and squeezed, waking echoes of his previous assault. I yelped and twisted, trying to get away but succeeding only in impaling myself more completely on the hand in my cunt. “Let yourself go, Rebecca,” he murmured close to my ear. Lost in a fog of arousal and terror, I hardly wondered that he should know my name.

I couldn't fight him. I realised that I didn't want to. I opened my legs wide and ground myself against his invading fingers. There was nothing in the world except his hand working my cunt. I relaxed and he added another finger, filling me, waking new pleasures that welled up and spilled over, drowning me in sensation. “Good girl,” he whispered. “What a good little slut you are.”

Author Zoe Shepard races away from an unfaithful lover in the States only to fall into the arms of a spirit in Ireland. While she has no intention of allowing another faithless male in her life, she doesn’t mind this particular man because he demands nothing and night after night he gives her incredible climaxes. It isn’t until the full moon that Zoë actually meets Keegan McFallon, knight and lord of clan McFallon, in human form. Because of a sorceress’s spell, he’s doomed to remain in the spirit world, except on the nights of new and full moons, until he has an orgasm on the Twelfth of Never. Unfortunately, that is a riddle he cannot seem to solve. Keegan, with his long blond hair, broad shoulders, and constant hard-on, is so much better in the flesh than in spirit form that Zoë sets about trying to discover how to release him from the sorceress’s spell. In the meantime, she decides to write his story, but… Who’s going to believe a story about a five hundred year old spirit who has to orgasm on the Twelfth of Never to return to mortal form?

Very HOT, very ADULT excerpt!

Líoch. You are beautiful.”


She spun at the sound of his voice, a deep Irish brogue that raised goose bumps on her skin. He stood on the other side of her bed, a tall man with golden hair that reached his shoulders. Shoulders that were massive, and bare. Her gaze swept downward. He had the most magnificent hard on, his cock jutting out of a nest of darker blond hair like a sword. Muscles rippled across his chest and arms. His thighs were sprinkled with darker hair, their muscles cording the length of his legs.


“I am Keegan McFallon, knight and lord. You are the one come to save me.”

“Why me?”

“You haven’t run away.”

“I have nowhere to go. Besides, who in their right mind would run after being given multiple orgasms every night?”

“Would you like another?” A sexy grin cut across his features, softening the hard planes of his face.

She let her gaze travel over him again, noting the glistening drop of cum seeping from the eye of his cock at her perusal. He walked toward her and Zoë felt anticipation, not fear. The T-shirt she wore as a nightgown dropped from numb fingers. She thought she might be dreaming again because this was too good to be true! Was he the same one who had come to her the previous nights? And why was he here now, when she wasn’t dreaming?

His hand came up and covered her breast, the rough palm abrading her nipple until it peaked, hard and aching. His fingers squeezed lightly and she suddenly knew.

“It has been you.” Although she had never seen him before in her life, and she hadn’t known who he was, she still knew him. His touch had made her come in glorious spasms of orgasm. And tonight he was here in the flesh.

“I do not wish to spend my time talking. I have less than six hours before—”

She pulled him to the bed, pushing on his chest to get him to lie down. Whatever the reasons for his appearance in her bedroom, she wasn’t going to waste time analyzing it.

He gripped her upper arms and pulled her down with him, quickly rolling them both over so his hips settled in the vee of her thighs.

“You think to be the aggressor?” His tone mocked her puny attempts to control his movements.

She looked up at chiselled features. He was far too rugged to be considered handsome. At least not the suave, almost pretty way that Trevor had been handsome. His nose had a bump on the bridge, as though it had been broken more than once. His chin was square, his cheekbones high, and there wasn’t a hint of softness anywhere. But it was his eyes, tawny brown, that captured her attention. In them she saw weariness, loneliness; and desire.

“You’ve made me come so many times that just the thought of you has me dripping.” At her words, his hand slid between them, two blunt fingers pushing up inside her. She groaned.

“Aye, you’re wet for me.”

“But you haven’t come, have you?” Every morning Zoë had awakened stretched and tender, just as she had on previous occasions when she had made love all night. With one exception. There was no smell of sex; no sticky cum on her thighs.

At her question, his beautiful eyes narrowed. “A spirit can not feel the squeeze of your muscles; can not shoot his cum into your clutching receptacle.”

She lifted a hand to the side of his face. When she touched his cheek, rough with bristly whiskers, his eyes darkened with passion. “Then tonight let me make you come. Let me return the pleasure you have given me.”

This time when she pushed, he rolled to his back and Zoë took immediate advantage, trailing her hands over the hard planes of his chest as her lips went unerringly to his cock. She heard him groan when she took him into her mouth, laving the rigid length of him with her tongue as she sucked.

His hand caressed her ass, fingers sliding along her crack to her anus before pausing. Her muscles squeezed involuntarily as he fingered her opening, then slid further down, pushing into her wetness.

“Now!” he groaned, shoving another digit into her, his thumb pressing hard against her clit. She felt herself tense, her pussy muscles clutching and knew she was on the edge. She took him deeper, sucking harder, and he pulsed into her mouth, spewing hot and long. The taste of him made her climax, the sensations spiralling outward, making her legs shake as her passage gripped him tighter.

She fell back on the bed, gasping for breath, never before climaxing until she thought she would pass out. He immediately turned, pushing her thighs wider, grabbing her ankles and lifting her legs to his shoulders.

“Again?” She was too weak to protest, her head rolling from side to side. “I can’t,” she whimpered as his still hard cock rubbed against her sex.


“You will, again and again, until the moon sets.” He rammed into her, the pressure intense with her legs in the air and her ass tilted upward.



26.10.07

THE “WHY” CHROMOSOME

Demystifying Guys by Brynn Paulin

Men claim they’ll never understand women, but can we really understand them? Today, I’ll attempt to breach some of the barriers that divide men and women and just have us asking “Why???”

But as Inigo Montoya said in Princess Bride, “There is too much. Let me sum up.”

When I asked my friends what they’d want to know if they could ask a man anything, the answers ranged from “Why doesn’t he talk?” to several versions of “What does it feel like?” and I wondered… what does it feel like? So I asked a few of my guy friends. Their answer: Good.

That is not helpful. So…

The Non-Talker


In my quest to demystify men, I set out to answer these questions. First on the list “Why doesn’t he talk?”


27% of men say that they fight with their significant other over the fact they don’t share their feelings and 65% of men don’t want their partners to ask more questions of them. Non-talkers? Ya think?

As women, we tend to assume if our guy isn’t talking, there must be a problem. That’s not always true. Actually, it’s usually not true. Quite often, if men aren’t talking, they’re happy. It’s a simple as that. Don’t rock the boat. Go with it. But if you don’t believe me, ask him. Be specific and be direct. Beating around the bush won’t get the job done. As several men I spoke with said, subtly doesn’t work. Whether that receptor isn’t working or our guy has turned it off doesn’t matter. It’s all in your method. Be blunt.

Of course, here’s something to consider. Say the word feelings to a man and its like clipping your toenails during a striptease, says David Zinczenko in his book Men, Love, and Sex: The Complete User’s Guide for Women. They don’t like it. Men often feel intimidated about expressing their feelings because they perceive women to have that language down while they’re still babbling like toddlers.


David goes on to say, “If you want us to answer questions about what we're feeling, then stop asking about how we're feeling.” Often men see it as weakness to express how their feeling. Despite my title, it’s not chromosomal. It’s socialized. Men are told to “suck it up” and “be a man”. As a boy, talking about how he felt would have been a good way to get picked on, or worse, beat up. By the time, they get to us, holding in their emotions is ingrained.


Keeping this in mind, don’t push the issue. This is the fastest way to shove your guy into a corner and get him to clam up. Instead, watch how he behaves. Continue to be open about your feelings. The more you show you’re comfortable expressing yourself, the more he'll do the same.


So if he doesn’t talk, sometimes we have to rely on…


Male Body Language


You can often get a clue to how your guy is feeling inside by his behaviour. If he loves you, he may very well try to show you without actually saying it. Learning his non-verbal language will help you to know how open he is to conversations, especially if you plan to use the f-word— feelings not the other one. Once you can intuitively interpret the signs, you can use them to improve communication between the two of you. Of course, if you’re peckish like me, you might use them to purposely annoy him.

So here are a few of the “must know” signals found in The Complete Idiots Guide to Pleasing Your Man by Eve Salinger:


If he smoothes his hair or clothing, he wants you to notice he’s attractive. If he hooks his thumbs in his belt while facing you, he wants you to notice he’s virile. His hands on his hips are an indicator that he’s feeling big and strong, while fiddling with his jacket buttons indicates he’s nervous. Crossing his arms over his chest shows defensiveness. When he leans toward you or points his feet in your direction, he’s interested in what you’re saying. However, if he sits with his face toward you, but his body facing away, he’s not comfortable. And if he leans away, you might want to wait until later to talk because he’s completely unreceptive.

If he holds your gaze, he’s definitely interested in you. This is important to take note of since, men tend to display less warmth and facial expression than woman. This doesn’t mean that a guy is uninterested in what you’re saying. Less warmth, not no warmth. If he’s scowling at you, beware.


So if a guy won’t talk and you have to rely on non-verbal communication, what does intimacy, particularly sexual intimacy mean to men?

What Sexual Intimacy Means to Men


Obviously, men have different ideas about sex and intimacy than woman do. Anyone who’s spent five minutes with the “why” chromosome knows that. There’s a stereotype that men are sex-crazed, ego-centric and completely horny—and there are those who fit the bill, but most men are far more complicated than that. You didn’t want to hear that, did you? According to Intimacy by Dr. Paul Coleman, sex and intimacy are closely related for men. Many woman fail to comprehend this. A guy’s deep need for sex is often just a need for closeness. Since men are not big talkers, this is often a way to communicate their love or caring to the important woman in their life. Sex is the easiest way for a man to feel closeness on an acute level. Another non-verbal communication. This intimacy leads to deeper intimacy.

To a man, sex is acceptance. ‘Not now’, even for the best reasons, is often construed as a rejection. The more he feels rejected, the more he may try to press for sex. Because he feels insecure. He needs reassurance that he’s desirable. He’s not a raving sex maniac.


What does it feel like?


Okay, I can’t leave out this most asked question. What does it feel like? Heads up ladies, it doesn’t matter what hundreds of romance novels (including mine) have said. According to the g
uy panel, the groin does not “tighten”. Apparently, there’s a lot of pressure. There’s a definite sensation of pooling, then thickening. It’s all good. But no one can really explain what it feels like. I didn’t think describing an erection would be so tough. It’s like describing the colour red. It’s…well, it’s red. An erection, in the same way, feels like an erection. I resorted to The Penis Dialogues by Gabriel Constans. Here are a few descriptions:

“It’s almost painful. Pleasure is only a part of it. It’s painful pleasure. It’s a focusing and gathering, as though the rest of my body is draining. I need to bring attention to it. When it receives attention pleasure occurs."


“It’s like water building up behind a dam, with pressure that needs to be released.”


“An erection takes my head to the head of my penis. All my thoughts are there. It’s a coalescing of everything in one spot.”


“An erection feels like a fifteen minute sneeze. It starts by feeling really warm and exciting throughout my whole body, with a focus on my groin. An orgasm feels the top blowing off of everything.”


Hmmm…just as I suspected. I figured explaining what sex feels like would be far easier. Since so many people asked, I was on a mission and unwilling to go with “it feels like hot apple pie”. It seems like that would burn.


Mission or not, I forgot for a moment that men don’t like to talk.


Warm and wet are the only clear answers. Not tight. Not like a glove. Not “like the passage to heaven”. Just hot and warm. I guess that’s where the pie description comes from. Come on … I have a pile of sex books, the whole world wide web, the guy panel and I couldn’t get better than that? The guys have some talking to do and I have an opportunity to ply them with alcohol this weekend. Ladies, I’ll get back to you on this one because it’s time for Brynn to leave the building, but before I go…what does it feel like for the “poisons” to leave the building. I’ll leave it to Greg to describe.


“Ejaculation creates this unbelievable sensation of something rushing from your body—you can actually feel liquid channelling down through your pipes. The best sex feels like mild electric shocks that begin at my groin then course through my body.”

Mmmm. Yummy.


See you next time ~ Brynn










Brynn Paulin


24.10.07

A VIEW FROM...

...The Desk of KS Augustin

Outside the sky is dark, the clouds low and heavy. Jagged streaks of lightning illuminate the otherwise black patches of thick vegetation. The glow of streetlights is steady in the still heat. It is not yet six o'clock in the morning.

Welcome to Singapore.
Singapore likes to advertise itself as a modern metropolis, a wired and tuned-in city-state. I like that aspect of it, but I equally like all the things that don't make it a modern metropolis. I love the smell of the tropics itself; that damp odour of barely-leashed vegetation, waiting for the slightest chance to once more overrun the highways and homes that have cut through it. I love the slower pace as people amble along the up-and-down tumbleness of the old shophouses; the air is like soup, and the brightly coloured shops offer more than enough distraction to reward the relaxed pedestrian. I love the mix of sound and sight—reds, yellows, oranges, blues—exciting yet more subdued than its northern neighbours. I love the heat; it makes me appreciate every wisp of breeze that comes my way, carrying aromas of food—and lively chatter in different languages—in its wake.

Singapore is a good place to dip your toes into if you've never been to Asia before. It's a safe—a
leashed—environment. But, away from the air-conditioned mega-malls, there are little gems that will still make you feel like you've stumbled across something special and exotic. I always stop and gaze at the intricate artwork atop the Hindu temples, a pyramid of multi-coloured deities, all vying for attention. I admire the simplicity, yet provocative ostentation, of the Buddhist temples with their giant statues (goldleaf-covered apparently) outside. In contrast, the mosques are angled and severe, relieved only occasionally by a crowning bulbous spire. And the churches are wedding-cake perfect, with archetypal spires and tall arched windows, and all painted a blazing icing-white. I want to, not so much enter one as, eat it!

The shops, too, have their own smells of incense, perfume and spice meandering through the air. Away from the tourist spots, they are dark inside, with the most fascinating of objects hanging from every available space. Sometimes you can also smell the old timber, worn smooth by decades of slippered feet stepping on them, parts of the wood bowed and creaky. The shopkeepers know you are an intruder, that you have no business there, away from the malls and wide avenues of Orchard
Road. They will watch you with a puzzled curiosity that you might mistake for resentment. But ask a question, and they will be happy to answer as best they can, patting your children on the head and telling you how big and strong they look, how smart they sound.

But this is no city you can meander in solitude. There are people everywhere. Eating, walking, sitting, brushing against you. Even the shore is never still. No matter the hour, you will always see either small "bum boats" weaving their way along the waterways or huge container ships slowly and inexorably pushing through the soft waves.

We made a deliberate decision to bring our children here so they could experience all this. And I hope they will appreciate the marble-topped tables of the traditional coffee shops next to one of the most efficient public transport systems in the world; the delights of pickled and salted fruits next to French pastries and American burgers; the joy of the Chinese Autumn Festival, Muslim Hari Raya, or Christian Christmas, next to the high-tech superstores, multi-level bookstores and more escalators per square foot than I've seen anywhere else in the world.
It's not my hometown but, for now, it's a good enough substitute.

KS Augustin releases with Total-e-Bound

A lonely being in a lonely galaxy…Heron Meed has two strikes against it. It is an hermaphrodite in a galaxy dominated by two-gendered beings. And it's a convicted criminal.

After six years of incarceration, Heron is trying to start a new life, but that isn't easy when so many avenues are closed to it. It finally finds a refuge of sorts on the Castor Xeni Orbital and a surcease from its pain in the arms of voluptuous Subah Doisson but then various systems on the Orbital start getting sabotaged. With a small engineering population, and Heron the only newcomer to the station, how can the hermaphrodite prove its innocence amid a sea of entrenched prejudice?

HOT and very ADULT excerpt!

Are you sure you want this?” it asked.

Subah opened her hands, feeling the soft texture of the coverlet beneath her palms. “Yes.”

“So be it.”

For all its obvious impatience, Heron was gentle as it eased the trousers from Subah’s legs. The material caught at her ankles then, with one more tug, it was free, and she was lying naked, with her legs slightly apart, beneath the hermaphrodite’s gaze.

In truth, she was embarrassed. The last person who had seen her like this had been Erdonn and, although she was a fit person, she didn’t know what Heron saw through its sharp grey eyes. Would it be disappointed with her unclothed form? Did it perhaps prefer a more slender bed-partner, more sinew and less flesh? Less pulled down by age?

“You’re beautiful.”

The soft exclamation drifted through the cool air between them and a smile curved Subah’s lips. She watched as Heron disrobed with quick economical movements, pausing when it was done, letting her gaze drift down its body.

An hermaphrodite.

Subah hadn’t realised until this moment exactly what that meant. She knew that Heron sported wide shoulders beneath its clothing, but they were lean rather than bulky, like the rest of its body. If Subah wanted to describe Heron to another person, she would have thought of it as a pleasure-giving predator, built for grace and movement.

Beneath its shoulders was an outthrust of two breasts, each of them pert and tipped with a dark nipple. Subah felt an uncharacteristic urge to take them into her mouth and suckle on them. The image made her lick her lips, even as her gaze moved downwards.

Beneath a lightly-muscled ribcage, a small dark line arrowed southwards...to Heron’s erection. Its penis, like the rest of it, was straight and slim. Unlike Erdonn’s cock, which she remembered was criss-crossed with bulbous veins, Heron’s looked less like a weapon and more like a wand, ramrod stiff and capable of deep penetration.

The entire picture was not as incongruous as Subah was expecting. Everything about Heron was elegant, from its breasts to its cock, neither characteristic overshadowing the other, but melding together into a whole that promised entire vistas of delight.

“I want to touch you,” she whispered.

Heron moved and knelt at the bed, in between her legs, leaning close into her.

“I want to touch your breasts,” Subah added, and Heron obliged, stretching itself so its breasts were above her face.

She reached up and cupped them in her hands, even as she felt its cock nudge her stomach, and rubbed her thumbs over the velvety nipples.

Oh, how she wanted it all. She wanted that hard stiffness against her abdomen and the feel of those soft curves against hers. She lifted her head and licked the flesh of one breast, first on one side of the nipple then the other, feeling Heron shudder above her. Then, in a flash of bravery, she took the breast in her mouth, letting it fill her mouth. She sucked on it, her tongue playing with the nub of flesh at its tip, teasing it to hardness. Her other hand wasn’t idle either. Her fingers rubbed against Heron’s breast, mirroring the movements of her tongue, until she was playing with two small peaks of erect flesh.

Ah, but there was erect flesh elsewhere.

Subah left her mouth where it was, sucking on Heron, feeling its moans through contact of tongue on skin, and moved her hands downwards. Slowly, she cupped the head of Heron’s penis, then stroked down its length, as far as she could reach. Her fingertips ran along its smooth hardness, moving the flesh over the underlying rigidness, as she imagined it moving inside her.

She pressed it against her abdomen and opened her legs further, letting the long shaft rub against her groin, moving it from side to side until its length was in contact with her engorged clitoris.

The heat of Heron’s cock made her groan out aloud, her mouth finally releasing its grip on Heron’s breast, and the hermaphrodite took quick advantage of the situation, leaning back and forcing Subah forward on her knees.

With their eyes locked, Heron gently pushed Subah until she was resting on her heels, her knees still wide apart. The softness of the mattress beneath her shins made the position comfortable and intensely erotic. Heron moved into an identical position, facing her.

“I’ve wanted you ever since I saw you,” it told her in a low voice. Subah detected a confidence in its voice and knew she was now in Heron’s world, far beyond the commonplace coupling she and Erdonn had once shared. “I want to dominate and consume you, and to be dominated and consumed by you.”

It took her hands and put them on its breasts.

“Touch me. Fondle me. But, whatever you do, don’t let go.” Heron paused. “Do you understand?”

Subah’s answer was throaty. “Yes.” Her palms rested against Heron’s nipples, still half-pebbled from arousal.

Heron reached down to the triangle of Subah’s pubic hair, now wet and sticky with want. It slowly moved two fingers past her clitoris and then dipped inside her. Subah caught her breath but didn’t let go of Heron. Somehow, she felt the overwhelming need to start massaging its breasts, to feel that hot flesh beneath her hands.


Hoara Felin thinks she's in love. The problem is, the man she's fallen in love with is forbidden to leave the planet. Plus, he's not quite a man... Sub-Commander Hoara Felin of the Republic Space Fleet has crash-landed on a planet. Her ship is inoperable, her shipmates are dead. The only thing that can make a bad situation worse is finding she has crashed on the notorious prison-planet of Bliss—a place condemned criminals are sent…and never leave. She finds an unexpected ally in Toh, a handsome and caring man who treats her injuries and hides her from those who would hold an officer of the Space Fleet for ransom. But, as Hoara is about to find out, Toh is keeping a terrifying secret of his own.

HOT and very ADULT excerpt!

Across the table, he watched her with an intensity that reminded her of Hanek and she felt unaccountably nervous. She wasn't afraid of Toh; he had taken almost maternal care of her, anticipating her wishes, helping her to stand and dress. But there was something in his eyes that sent her back to her tremulous teenage years, to nervous waits for arriving boyfriends and the heady anticipation of long-anticipated kisses.


As Sub-Commander with the Republic Space Fleet, Hoara was used to putting her feelings on hold, but there was something about the man sitting across from her that called to that distant, walled part of her. Maybe it was because he was so gentle, in a galaxy of testosterone-driven males. The men she knew always wanted to dominate, to decide. It was a strange―and appealing―change to find someone who seemed so comfortable. She wondered what his skin felt like under the material of his shirt.

“Survive,” he replied.

She looked around as she ate. It was a spartan place, just one room and a bathroom off the major living space. And it was high. She couldn’t even reach the upper cabinets in the kitchen and dining room and wondered how Toh, who was the same height as her, managed it. And there were obvious signs of electronic tinkering. She saw small, crude metal boxes that blinked enigmatically on the kitchen bench and the corner of the living space was piled with spare parts.

“Survive?” She attempted a smile, encouraging him to talk. Up till now, he had only given simple responses to her questions. She wanted to know more about him. She wanted to find out if he was a scientist; if he really was as caring as he appeared.

If he had a wife.


“Is it that bad? What is this place? Some kind of research station?”

“In a way.” He changed subject abruptly. “How do you feel?”

She shrugged. “Fine. My body aches a bit.”

“I buried your two companions a little way from here. Are there prayers, rituals, you need to complete?”

He mentally kicked himself as he saw the smile leave her face and sadness dull her eyes. How insensitive of him to remind her of her dead friends. Maybe the humans were right; maybe his kind weren’t capable of compassion or deeper feelings. But there were things he needed to settle. And soon. He didn't have the luxury of taking things easy.

Hoara shook her head. “Hanek and Sim came from cultures with their own rituals. I wouldn’t know what to say or do.”

This was none of his business. The death of humans should not bother him, yet he found himself saying: “The sun is hot on this world. It’s harsh but it will keep them warm in their final resting place.”

And felt something stir within him when she smiled her gratitude, something he had thought long dead. He remembered the feel of her skin against his hands and a rush of desire filled his head.

No!


He had to retain control.

He pushed back the chair with his outstretched toes. It was almost too tall for him as a human. He pretended not to notice.

“If you’re finished, you should go back to bed. You need more rest.”

Maybe it was pheromones, a scent that escaped her body to tickle at his back-brain. All he could think about was touching her, licking her.

“I may need some help.” Her voice sounded embarrassed. “My ribs still hurt a little when I bend over.”

“Of course.”

He followed her into the semi-darkness of the bedroom and was suddenly aware of her scent filling the small space.

While she undid the buttons of the shirt, he started on her trousers.

He tried to recall astral charts in his head while he unzipped her and slowly pulled the trousers down to her ankles. Then he made a mistake. He breathed in. He breathed her in and all the pent-up desire of the past years, the slow trudging years of solitude and loneliness, erupted in a choreography of movement.

Swiftly, he pulled the trousers while she stepped out of them, and flung them away from him.

She was still standing, while he was crouched in front of her, and his first kiss was on her thigh. He heard her quick intake of air and ignored it, closing his eyes and kissing her legs, first one then the other. He would not think of rejection, would not think of refusal. He would kiss her and pleasure her and perhaps rouse in her the same kind of passion that she roused in him.

He had never felt such silkiness, such fragrant smoothness. His face brushed her groin then kissed her abdomen, his hands gripping her from behind, pushing her hips against him.

Her legs were almost together, but that didn’t stop him. He moved down to her triangle of curls, to the mound of her sex and used his tongue to part her, working their way between her outer lips and curling behind her clitoris, exhaling―hot and steamy with mouth open―before taking her nub between his lips.

Above him, she groaned and moved her legs further apart, clutching his hair with distracted hands.

“We…I…shouldn’t…” she gasped, but her body encouraged him to continue.

He sucked on her wetness then, with a small effort, extended his tongue, letting it slip along her labia, forming small nodules to rub against her, until he was inside her. He had dreamed of doing this to a woman for so long. He was along her slick passage now, feeling her muscles clench against him before he finally, reluctantly, withdrew.

“You were,” she panted, “so deep….”

His voice was hoarse. “I want to be deeper.”

He pushed her onto the bed so her back was against the wall. She still had the shirt on, the glimpses of her breasts and erect nipples through the material more erotic than he thought possible. With gentle, yet firm, hands he pushed her knees up then outwards.

Her perfume was intoxicating, so elemental, so primal and he saw her cunt glisten with craving. He thought she might still be in too much pain, but her wetness told him she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

With a broad tongue, he lapped at her, a long wide stroke that sent a spasm through her body, then swallowed her musky sharpness. She was thick and slippery against his mouth, against his tongue as he invaded her again, flicking the tip so she jerked with each move.

She was dripping now, a small patch of dark wetness pooling on the sheet. With his fingers, he pried her labia apart and kissed her clitoris, moving his lips as though it was her mouth, grazing her with his tongue, playing, twirling, listening to the tenor of her breathing as it got more ragged, as she started to lose control.

She screamed as she came, clenching fistfuls of the sheets in her hands and bucking her hips against his mouth. He moved his hands to keep her knees apart and continued flicking back and forth across her clitoris, delivering two, three more orgasms before he let her rest. Then he was out of his clothes and perched above her, moving her so she rested against the pillow while he entered her. She was so wet it took only one stroke.

Hoara clutched at him while he paused, letting the head of his penis expand and form ripples along its shaft. Then, lifting her hips, he slammed into her, throwing his head back while he felt her clench and writhe against him.

No, it was too much…it had been too long…

KS' avatar
KS Augustin

22.10.07

NEW RELEASES

When Ben Hawkins arrives in Tyler, Texas, he expects to put on a live show for his hometown and leave unscathed. As lead guitarist of the ever-popular band, Darkfever, he had everything that fame and fortune offered, but no one to share it with. Marah Spencer, however, was once the girl he longed for both in his life and in his bed. In leaving her behind to pursue his dreams, Ben found it to be one of the hardest things he ever had to do, but something completely unavoidable.

Marah knew the circumstances of Ben’s retreat, though the information didn’t ease her broken heart. And now he’s back in town. Her father specifically requested that she interview the Darkfever band for an article in the newspaper, but being close to Ben, she gains another taste of what she can’t have. In one homecoming of a weekend, both will face their desires and risk having their hearts shattered a second time around.


HOT and very ADULT excerpt!


Ben froze, staring straight ahead as his heart skipped a beat at the sound of Marah’s voice. It was the voice he could listen to all day and still be hypnotised by it. “Isn’t it taboo to be seen with me?”

“Not in my mind.” She came up beside him. “You could at least look at me, you know? I mean, I may not be the prettiest groupie, but I don’t think I’m all that hideous, either.”

He turned his head, seeing the woman he’d left behind for the first time since that night he’d gotten on the bus. She still had the same angelic face from her youth, yet she seemed more like a woman. Her baby blue eyes sparkled with mischief. What once was blonde hair, was now auburn, falling in soft waves around her face. Her breasts were fuller, giving her the body of a woman instead of the girl he’d known. And she still wore her favourite clothing—T-shirt and a denim skirt—which accentuated the long, lean legs he remembered so well.

“You look surprised,” she said with a smile. “I know my hair’s different. I grew bored with blonde and decided to try red.” She shrugged, looking down at herself. “I’ve grown maybe an inch. Probably look like hell from the long ride, but nevertheless I’m still the same.”

“Midas said you wanted to do an interview with Darkfever,” he said, hoping to end her nervous chattering.

“If you don’t mind. My father hired me as a journalist, and I planned on coming to see my mom on my way to Dallas for a job interview. He wants me to catch the concert, go to Dallas and have the article ready for print by Tuesday when the issue goes out. It’ll be hard, but I think I can do it.” She shrugged looking back through the window. “Are you staying with Midas’s family?”

Ben scoffed. “Nope. David forgot to make reservations, so we’re hotel-less.”

“Mom’s got extra room. I’m sure she won’t mind.” She stared at the men before them laughing with the people inside the diner. “So how’s life been treating you?”

Clever of her to avoid his eyes. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Do what? I’m making polite conversation on the sidewalk with an old friend.” She turned to face him. “Or are we not friends? I think the least you could tell me is how your life has been since you walked away ten years ago and never came back.”

Ben had known this was coming. Her hot-headed stubbornness came out with the temper of a fighting bulldog. He’d expected her anger and hurt. How the hell could he blame her?

“Marah…” He shoved his hands in his pockets not knowing what else to say. He watched her stare at their friends, seemingly unaffected by their conversation.

“Don’t, Ben,” she whispered. “Just answer my question.”

“Life’s been good.” He tried to keep regret from his voice. “I’ve been busy so it’s been a hassle, but a good hassle.”

“Good for you,” she mumbled. “I’m glad your dreams finally came true.”

She met his eyes, awkward silence surrounding them. Tension filled the air between them, thick and heavy as the past assaulted them. He saw the hurt on her face, the hurt he’d put there. Marah was tough, but Ben knew he’d broken her heart.

“Well, I won’t keep you from your friends.” The sound of her heels clicked against the concrete sidewalk as she walked away.

“I’m sorry, Marah.” He swallowed visibly, looking for words. “I would take back the hurt and pain I’ve caused you if I could, but we both know I had to leave. It was inevitable.”

She turned. “You leaving isn’t what pisses me off the most, Ben.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You could have called. I mean, I know famous people have representatives to do all their talking, but there are telephones in hotel rooms. It wouldn’t have killed you to pick up the receiver from time to time just to let me know you were okay.”

She had a point, but he made an excuse. “I’ve been busy, Marah.”

“Don’t you dare give me that bullshit.” She narrowed her eyes. “Midas called home every single weekend the first three years.”

People stared at their little reunion as they passed. He deserved everything she gave him and then some. But it didn’t have to be in public. Huffing with frustration, he grabbed her arm and pulled her down the narrow alley next to the diner, virtually out of everyone’s sight.

“Maybe I thought it was pointless, Marah. Nobody wanted me here. You hated me.”

“I loved you, Ben.” Tears rimmed her eyes. “If you couldn’t see it then, you were either blind or a damn fool.”

“I saw it, sweetheart, but I’m a damn fool for letting you go.” He pinned her body against the cool brick building and covered her mouth with his in a hard kiss. Lightening crashed through his veins, the homecoming skyrocketing his desire to high degrees.

Marah stiffened and pressed her lips tightly together and then finally surrendered to his coaxing tongue. The chill of the night did little to cool his temperature or hinder his thoughts. His mind, body and soul wanted only one thing. Marah.

He nibbled her lower lip, pulling it between his teeth. She tasted like strawberries, sweet delicious strawberries. Her small hands roamed his body finally settling on his hips. He needed inside her. He needed to feel the only thing that was ever real to him.

“Ben,” Marah moaned. She gripped his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

He opened his mouth on her neck, streaming wet kisses across her skin. He had to feel her. “Marah, I want you, now.”

His hand grazed her bare thigh, sliding underneath the short skirt. He waited a second for her protest but when none came continued moving his hand toward her pussy. Her bare pussy, he noticed when his fingers touched her hot wet flesh. He groaned against her neck at his discovery wondering when his sweet Marah turned into such a bad girl.

He teased her clit, rolling the hard nub with the tip of his finger while his other hand found her breast. Lightly, he kissed and nibbled along her face and neck. Marah’s head ground against the wall. Her eyes squeezed shut while her fists clenched his sides. Her mouth dropped open in a slight gasp and then she came.

A small cry tore from her throat into the silence of the night. Her pussy contracted around his fingers, clenching and sucking as he deftly inserted two into her. The next time she came, he decided, would be around his cock.

He kissed her swollen lips one last time before pulling his hand from her body. Slick from her juices, he wiped it on his jeans before meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Marah.”

Someone cleared their throat behind them, ending the conversation. When Ben turned, all four men stood behind him, smirking.

“Hey, Marah,” Midas said. “It’s good seeing you, babe.”

“Yeah. You too,” she squeaked. With her eyes wide, she pulled away from Ben, blushing. “I should probably get home. Mom’s leaving tomorrow so I’d like to see her while I’m in town.” She glanced over at Midas. “Can I get an interview with Darkfever sometime this weekend?”

“Sure. Anytime you want.” Midas narrowed his eyes at Ben.

“Great.” She bit her bottom lip, affording one last look at Ben. “If you’ll excuse me.”



Today, tomorrow and yesterday, it's always the same. Submissive seeking her Master's voice. Dominant searching for the perfect sub. Whether in office suites or enchanted isl
es, they all succumb to Sensual Mastery.


Tara Drake is a recently divorced advertising executive whose strong persona in the workplace is counteracted by her need to be disciplined off-hours. She meets Mr. Leo every Th
ursday and happily pays him to discipline, spank and subdue her.

The problem? The contract she signed with the hot dom was very clear on one point: no se
x. While Tara gets off on her sessions in a big way, she can't help but imagine what being trapped beneath the stud's hard body would feel like.

Leo Hanson is a professional top whose soft voice belies his urge to dominate and control. He's
good at the job he's been doing since college, but makes it a point to never get worked up by his clients—no matter how extreme the scene or circumstance. Until Tara Drake.

When this unlikely pair's evening of bondage and discipline becomes overtly sexual, Tara quickly realises she's not the only one who's 'whipped'.

HOT and very ADULT excerpt!

“On your hands and knees, Tara. Now!”

Wow. He’d barked that order. She scrambled into position.

The belt tapped her ass lightly. She moaned.

“What?” he demanded.

Gasping for air, she arched her back. Turning to find him in the darkness, she begged for what she wanted. “More. Please. Do it more.”

When the belt connected again, her teeth chattered.

Smack. Whack. Tap. Slap.


Her muscles clenched. An orgasm called to her with every slash of the belt. The sound of her own cries touched her ears. Subordinate banshee. Willing target.

Hands gripped her hips. Tara felt her skirt being hiked up.

No. What’s he doing?


Yes. He’s pulling up my skirt!


No.


Yes. Yes. Yes!


Mr. Leo was all over her. He wrenched down her panties. She squealed and rotated her hips. Hard masculine flesh fused to her skin. A large finger probed her cunt. She contracted her muscles and held on, drawing it deep inside her wet passage.

“See what you made me do?” Mr. Leo whispered. “See what you’ve started?”

Hearing him say those words was all it took for her to completely lose herself in the moment. No more shame. No more hiding what she really wanted.

Tara
leaned forward on her elbows and spread her thighs apart as far as she could. His thick insistent digit fucked deeper into her pussy, and she moaned like a woman possessed. Unable to stop herself any longer, she yelled her most fervent desire. “Fuck me. Please. Fuck me!”

Mr. Leo didn’t like to be told what to do.

He pulled his finger out of her pussy. “Pull up your panties.”

Disappointment washed over her as she followed the order. But knowing she’d messed up didn’t make her ache go away. Tears of frustration streamed down her face. She wanted him. No. She needed him. She felt empty inside.

Fill me up!
Why did he do it?

Why did he stop?


It felt good.


Tara
wondered if Mr. Leo felt as confused as she did. No. He couldn’t. He was the Dom. In charge… But he’d broken the contract. Why? Not that she minded one little bit. Trouble was, she hated being teased.

She wanted to jump up and read him the riot act. She wanted to bully him into finishing what he’d started. But he wasn’t one of her subordinates. In this strange empty office, she was the sub.

Tara
remained on her hands and knees and awaited instruction.

She strained to hear his movements. His footsteps echoed at her back, retreating into the darkness. Fear gripped her when she heard a door open.

Would he leave her the way he had the day she passed her final exam?

Suddenly, the footsteps cycled back. There were only two doors he could have opened. The one leading to the hall. The other was the closet.

Did he retrieve something from the closet? And if so, what?


Relief steadied her heartbeat. He wasn’t leaving. Perhaps this was the beginning of something good.

Do something with me. To me,
she thought.

“I need a moment to think,
Tara.” His voice sounded odd.

“Yes. Okay.”

“Stand up and come to me.”

She got up and turned around. Squinting in the dark, she followed the sound of his voice.

“Good girl. I know you can’t see me too well, so I’m going to tell you what I have in my hands. I’m holding three silk scarves. ”

“Okay.”

“I’ll use one to bind your hands. Another will blindfold you. I’ll put the last one over your mouth.”

She was glad he couldn’t see her expression. She’d felt her eyes bulge like something out of a cartoon. “But—”

His voice cracked a whip across her nerve endings. “Your session isn’t over yet. I need a few moments to think.”

Sullen. Bratty. Spoiled. She felt like those things because her first reaction had been to throw a tantrum. She wanted to stomp her feet. She wanted to cry foul.

But arguing wasn’t allowed.

He moved behind her. She trembled when his breath fanned across her neck. He slipped the scarf over her cheek. She moaned.

“Open your mouth.”

She parted her lips. He placed his arms in front of her and pulled the scarf until it became taut. Slipping it between her lips, he tied it against the back of her neck. He covered her eyes next, securing the fabric at the back of her head. The world became blacker than it had been before. He tugged at a lock of her hair and positioned it under the fabric. Tara waited patiently to feel his hands touch hers.

“You okay?”

His voice sounded strange. Like he was guilty of something.

She nodded.

When he pulled her arms back and locked them together, she lost her balance, falling against him. The raw strength of his body held her up. The gag in her mouth stopped her from gasping at the need that raced through her. And though Mr. Leo seemed keen on pretending this was a normal session, she knew he needed something, too. His breathing sounded rushed. Every time he touched her, his hand lingered a bit too long—caressing her skin. She leaned against him and was thrilled to feel evidence of his arousal.

He’s turned on!


Tara
rubbed her ass against him and grinned when his cock stirred.

“Stop it,” he commanded.

Ignoring him, she rotated her ass across his thickening penis.

He smacked her ass. Hard. A jolt of electric heat shot through her rear. She screamed in pleasure, but the gag muffled the sound.

He handled her roughly, binding her wrists using at least three knots. “You’re already out of control. I can tell.”

Whimpering through the scarf, she shook her head violently.

“Yes, you are,” he whispered. “You’re back-talking me. You’re defying me, Tara. I’m putting you in the corner. Just like the bad girl you are. You need to think about what you’ve done. I need to think about what I’ve done.”

Wow. I’m getting to him.


She swooned when he ran his hand over her ass and caressed the spot he’d smacked so roughly. Tugging gently on a lock of her hair, he led her across the room and settled her on the floor.

Feeling torn as he set her aside like an object, she wondered what her next move should be. Despite the power she gave to him, Tara knew her position as client meant she remained in control. She could stop this madness anytime she wanted.

But I don’t want to stop.


Positioning her body against the wall, she relaxed and waited for his next instructions.