Tag Archive | christmas

Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 24

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Christmas and fairy tales go together, so on the final day here’s an excerpt from a naughty sequel to a classic story. It’s called The Return of the Snow Queen and tells of what happens when the evil queen returns to reclaim Kay, now grown to adulthood.  I hope you’ve enjoyed these pictures and story snippets as much as I’ve enjoyed bringing them together – if you did, watch this space – I’m already planning my next series!

Happy Christmas!

Through vast, glassy halls Kay followed the Snow Queen, recalling as he did a distant dream of a time long ago, of time spent here in the cavernous Ice Palace.  Everything glowed blue and green in the shimmering Northern Lights, making it seem as if they were walking under water until finally they came to the Queen’s own chamber.  The icy structures and luxurious furnishings glimmered in the light of a hundred golden candles positioned in alcoves in the walls.  But even the heat of a hundred flames was not enough to make the room warm and Kay shivered as he looked around.

“Sit,” said the Snow Queen, “and drink.”

On a small table stood a beaker of steaming hot liquid, white and frothy.  Kay picked it up and warmed his hands on the outside of the cup.

“Drink it,” commanded the Queen, “and you won’t feel the cold.”

Kay raised the beaker to his lips and tasted the most delicious drink he’d ever come across, like hot buttered rum with chocolate and coffee and honey.  And as he gulped it down a glow of warmth radiated through him and he was no longer troubled by the frigidity of the air or the ice crystals forming in his hair.

When he’d drained it, the Queen took the beaker from his hands and placed it back on the table.

“Now you’re mine, Kay,” she said.  “When I first met you, you were on the cusp between being a child and a man.  For seven long years I tried to forget you.  But I couldn’t.  Then for seven long months I tried to find you, until the blizzard finally blew me to you.  And now you’ll be mine for the rest of time.”

Kay fell under the spell of the silvery music of her voice and found himself dropping to his knees.

“All I want is to be yours and to serve you in any way I can,” he said, head bowed, no longer daring to look her in the eye.

“Come,” said the Queen.  “First you must be punished for running away from me.”

In his heart Kay felt fear and excitement at the same time.  He couldn’t imagine why he would have run away from so beautiful a creature.  He followed her across the room to where three steps led up to a small platform in one corner.  Set in the sculpted walls of ice were chains and shackles for wrists, ankles and waist.

“Take off your clothes, Kay,” said the Queen.

Kay did as he was bid and, even though he stood on a floor of ice and he could see the cloud of his own breath in front of his face, he didn’t feel cold at all.  The Queen looked him up and down and Kay heard her sharp intake of breath.  Heat rose from his groin and travelled up through his body, making his cheeks flush and his eyes bright.

“Turn and face the wall,” said the Queen with a slight rasp in her voice.

Kay turned and the Ice Queen took him by first one wrist and then the other and snapped the manacles into place.  She fastened a chain around his waist and shackled his ankles.  Kay’s chest and the front of his thighs were pressed against the ice wall and though he felt the bite of the cold, it felt more like a caress.  He closed his eyes and waited on the Queen’s pleasure.

“You were wrong to run away from me all those years ago, weren’t you?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Are you ready to take your punishment?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Just the sound of her voice made Kay swell and harden.

He heard her walk away momentarily and then she returned.  A swooshing sound through the cold air coincided with a ferocious sting across his buttocks.  Kay gasped as pain radiated through him.  But pain was only part of it; his hips jerked forward and his balls became heavy with expectation.  He bit his lip and waited for the next blow to fall and he wasn’t disappointed.  The Snow Queen had a strong arm and a heavy crop and soon Kay’s buttocks were streaked with crimson welts.  His gasps turned to cries as his hips pushed back to meet each fresh assault; the Queen laughed at her handiwork, tossing aside her fur wraps as the physical exertion made her hot.

After seven rounds of seven blows the Snow Queen laid down her crop and stepped in close to Kay.  She laid a hand on the red welts and her cold skin felt like a balm, making Kay whimper.

“Will you run from me again?” she whispered in his ear.

“Never,” he replied, his breath coming hard and fast.

“Will you be mine?” she whispered.


16748338_sThe Queen unshackled him and took him to her bed.  When he saw her lying naked in front of him, Kay thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful.  Her skin was as white as porcelain, the curve of her breast surmounted by dark scarlet nipples which called out to his mouth to suckle on them.  Her belly was smooth and flat, soft and cool to his touch, curving down to the velvety red lips between her legs which held the promise of pleasures to come.  He caressed her cool skin and took her breasts into his mouth.  She writhed under his touch and her nipples stood out even darker against her pale skin.  She kissed him and let him kiss her in her secret places and even when his tongue searched deep inside her, he found no warmth.  Then he slipped his tongue upwards toward the small bud which jutted like an icicle between her dark lips and she groaned with pleasure as he massaged it and caressed it with his warm tongue.

Finally she took him in her hand and guided him into the cool recess which was his heart’s desire.  Kay plunged into her and an icy shiver shot through him, up his spine to his sternum, making him gasp as the cold wave reached his brain.  The Snow Queen’s lips numbed his neck and her cool hands spread a pattern of frost across his shoulders.  Her legs splayed wide, her back arched and with a deep, guttural cry, she gave herself up to Kay.  He felt her muscles spasm and clench around him in a frigid embrace.  A wave built within him and burst out of him in a hot gush which made the Queen scream as if she were being burned.

Gulping down cold air that seared his lungs, while sweat froze on his body into tiny crystals, Kay rolled off the Queen with a smile on his face.  How could he ever think of leaving such pleasures?  The Queen returned his smile.

“You have taken your punishment well,” she said.

Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 22

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Ever been Shipwrecked? That’s the title of the story from which this excerpt’s taken, though luckily for my heroine, there’s a hunky lighthouse keeper to keep he company…

I staggered back to the cottage and had to hammer on the door that had slammed behind me. Josh opened it, pulled me into his arms and kicked it shut behind us.  As I burst into tears, he pushed the wet hair back from my forehead with one hand and firmly stroked my back with the other.

‘It’s okay,’ he whispered in my ear.  ‘You’re perfectly safe here and there’s plenty of food until the supply boat returns.’

I gulped back my tears.

‘When will that be?’

‘A week, two weeks, depending on the weather.’

‘What?  Everyone will think I’m dead.’

I pulled myself out of his embrace and he turned to lead the way into a small sitting room.

‘Come here by the fire,’ he instructed.  ‘No one will think you’re dead.  I’ve already radioed the coast guard to let them know you’re here.  But you’d better get out of those wet clothes again, before you catch your death of cold.’

I looked at him, the firelight playing across his face, and I wondered about his existence out here, all on his own for months on end.

‘I’ll get those pyjamas,’ he said, making a move.

‘No wait,’ I blurted out.  ‘How long have you been out here?’

‘I’ve been the keeper here for nearly two years.’

‘On your own all that time?’

He shrugged.

‘I like my own company.  Something of a loner, really.’

But no sex for all that time?  I couldn’t voice what I was thinking but my face went scarlet and the way he was looking at me now made it obvious he had guessed.

After sweeping up and down my body, his eyes met mine.  I suddenly became conscious of the fact that I was wearing just a t-shirt, soaked through, and the cold had had quite an effect on my nipples.  I looked down for confirmation of this and then looked back up at him in time to see his tongue dart out from between his lips.

‘You’re shivering,’ he said.

I started to pull at my clothes but my hands were shaking too much.

‘H-h-h-help-p-p m-m-meee,’ I said, through chattering teeth.

Standing in front of the roaring fire in the sitting room of his tiny lighthouse keeper’s cottage, Josh silently undressed me with tender hands.  Slowly he slipped the t-shirt up the side of my ribs and then quietly, gently manoeuvred my arms out of the sleeves like you would if you were undressing a child.  Finally, he smoothly rolled the wet garment up over my head, leaving me standing topless in front of him, shivering, wet and dripping on the floor.

My nipples stood out hard and proud, not just because of the cold, and as I caught him staring at them, a warmth started to blossom deeper inside me.

Without speaking he stepped forward and put his hands on the waistband of my jeans.  He gave me a questioning look and I nodded.  One by one he released the buttons of my fly and then slowly he peeled the cold, heavy denim down my legs.

‘Sit,’ he instructed, guiding me back towards a fireside chair.

I sunk into the softness of the blanket-covered armchair and he was able to pull each leg of my jeans down over my feet.  My panties had come with them and suddenly I found myself sitting naked in the firelight in front of a fully-clad stranger who I’d only clapped eyes on a few short hours before.

Josh’s breath caught in his throat as he knelt in front of me, gazing up.

‘My God, Shelby.  You’re like a mermaid washed ashore on dry land.’

I was still shivering and in one fluid move, he had stripped off his jumper and his shirt to reveal his torso in a tight grey t-shirt underneath.  He untangled the soft brushed-cotton shirt from the pullover and then used it to brush my wet limbs dry, starting with my legs that were stretched out in front of me.

The touch of the soft fabric and the occasional brush of his warm skin against mine mesmerised me and as he worked his way up my body, I sunk back blissfully in the chair.  By the time he started to dry my breasts, they were already rising and falling with my increasingly ragged breathing.

‘When did you last…?’ I whispered.

‘Too long,’ he moaned in my ear and then I felt his mouth graze one of my breasts.

His lips were warm and as his tongue swirled my nipple, I arched up in the chair to press it further into his mouth.  The feeling of heat between my legs spread through my body and a couple of seconds later I stopped shivering.  I grasped the bottom hem of Josh’s t-shirt and pulled it up to reveal a tanned six pack and chiselled pecs that quite literally took my breath away.  He raised his head from my breast to let me pull the t-shirt off and as he emerged I saw the happiest grin on his face.

‘You are beautiful, Shelby,’ he said, running a finger down my jaw line.  ‘But do you feel up to this?  It’s been a while so things might get a little…’

‘A little what?’ I prompted.

I already felt my dampness seeping from between my legs onto the chair.

‘Well, it could be a rough ride,’ he said.

‘I feel fine,’ I said and I was actually telling the truth.  His warm massaging hands had seen off most of my aches and pains.

He grinned.

‘Wow, I must be dreaming.’

I smiled back and placed a hand on the crotch of his jeans.

‘I’m all real,’ I said, ‘and so’s this.’

His hard on felt huge, stretching against the denim and I longed to release it.  I popped the button and eased down the zip.  A second later his cock sprung free as I rolled the denim down over his hips.  He groaned as I took hold of it, and it swelled even more, twitching under my touch.

‘Come and lie by the fire,’ he said and there was a new rasp in his voice.

Outside dusk was falling and I felt surrounded by a warm orange glow as he pulled the blanket off the chair and laid it on the floor in front of the hearth.  I lay down across the front of the fireplace, luxuriating in the heat, and the in the unbridled lust that played across Josh’s fire-lit features.

He knelt above me and then straddled my waist.  He leant forward to let his straining cock nestle between my breasts.  I caught them at the sides and pushed them together to envelope his shaft in my cleavage.  Josh slid slowly backwards and forwards, his breathe coming in sharp gasps, his head lolling above me as he surrendered to the longed-for sensations.  I raised my right leg so I could press my knee against his arse, flexing it to get the pressure in just the right place and seconds later, with a roar, he came.  Hot semen spurted out across the top of my chest and dribbled down around my neck.  I let go of my breasts and drew his head down for a kiss.

‘Sorry,’ he murmured as his lips met mine and his hot, wet cock slipped back down towards my belly.  ‘It’s been a long time coming.’

I silenced him with a kiss.

smutbythesea2medBuy links Amazon.com  Amazon.co.uk

Win With the Merry Mistletoe Blog Hop

It’s just a few days until Christmas and now’s the time to check back with yourself – have you been naughty or nice this year? Both I hope! And if you haven’t been naughty enough, the Mistletoe Hop is your chance to catch up with some little-bit-naughty-and-a-whole-lot-nice holiday romances.

My latest release is just that! A sweet, spicy erotic romance called The Christmas Tattoo – and if you leave a comment during the blog hop – December 20 – 23 – you could win a copy of your own! Here’s the blurb and a short excerpt to tempt you…

The Christmas Tattoo – blurb

When sexy red-head Bradie Clements comes home from Washington to nurse a broken heart and build bridges with her estranged father, she’s certainly not on the lookout for romance. After catching her boyfriend Kris in bed with her best friend and boss, all she wants to do is run and hide. But a chance encounter with local tattoo artist Colton Bassett leads to an unexpected appointment with his needle. Even though it’s cold outside, the temperature rises to boiling point as the two discover an irresistible attraction. But then Kris arrives on the scene to claim her back in time for his family Christmas and Bradie starts to remember what she saw in him. Tormented by jealousy and suspicion over Colton’s pregnant business partner, Bradie starts to wonder if her new romance is over before it’s begun…

 Buy links

Available at Amazon.com, Amazon UK, Kobo, and Xcite Books

The Christmas Tattoo


Bradie followed him through to a small studio.  The walls in here had the same patchwork of designs and there were two work stations, one with a black reclining barber chair and the other, a sort of articulated massage bench which could be arranged into a range of positions.   A work station along one wall carried the tattoo artists’ equipment: a huge selection of ink bottles and a number of scary devices that looked for all the world like medieval torture instruments.

Bradie considered them and swallowed hard.

“Take a seat,” said Colt, going over to the bench and picking up a particularly vicious-looking instrument.

Bradie backed up and found the back of her thighs pressing against the arm of the barber chair.

“Sit.  I can’t do you standing up.”

Bradie stumbled back into the seat, her breathing suddenly faster and the sound of her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

“But… I haven’t told you…”

Colt advanced on her and pressed a button on the device.  A sudden whirring noise whined out of it.


Colt towered over her now.  He turned the gadget off. 

“You don’t remember me, do you, Bradie Clements?”

Bradie sat bolt upright.


Colt rolled his eyes.

“School.  Only four years in the same homeroom, Bradie.  We even went on a date once.  But the less said about it the better.”

Bradie closed her eyes and delved back in time.  The height… the dark eyes… a date to the movies.

“Colton Bassett?  But you had black hair at school.   And you were skinny.”

“Okay, enough,” said Colt, running a hand through his blonde hair.  “It figures, I’ve changed.  But you haven’t.  Still the long red hair.”

“So why didn’t you say anything on the train?” said Bradie.

Colt put down the tattoo gun and perched on the edge of the massage table.

“I saw you and I remembered the date.  I didn’t want to remind you of it.”

Bradie could see why.  It had ended in disaster.  She had been an innocent co-ed and Colt had tried to feel her up in the back row.  She’d panicked and run out of the theatre and then spent the rest of the school year regretting it.  The blood rose to her cheeks again.  Shit, why did he keep having this effect on her.

“And now?” she said.

“Probably better to get it out in the open if you’re gonna be in town for a bit.  Look, I’m sorry for the way I behaved back then.”

“No, I am.  I always wished I’d stayed in there.”

WTF?  She had some sort of runaway mouth on her this morning.  She bit her lip.

“That came out wrong.”

“I’ll change the subject,” said Colt.  “So what sort of tatt do you want?”

Bradie thought for  a moment and then shrugged.

“A Santa sleigh?”

Colt laughed.

“Or perhaps a candy cane?” he said.  “They’re always popular.  But seriously?”

“I had a bad year, so something that means a new beginning maybe.  Perhaps a few words or a quote.”

“Where would you have it?”

“Not on my arm or leg.  Somewhere more private.  My hip, maybe?”

The room seemed suddenly smaller, hotter.  Colt stood up.

“Show me.”

With shaking fingers Bradie popped the top button of her jeans and tugged the zip halfway undone.  Then she pushed the waist band down a way to expose the jut of her hip bone.

“Here,” she said.  It came out a whisper.

Colt came closer.  He ran his thumb over the place she indicated, brushing the top of her black lace panties.  His warm skin hummed against hers but his touch sent a red hot jolt of current up through her.  Her breath caught in her throat as she was suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to stroke his skin in return.

“It’ll hurt, across the bone there.”

He moved his thumb a little closer to her navel, pushing the black lace and denim down a fraction further.

“Whereas here would be less painful.”

Bradie’s eyes met his.  Colton Bassett.  Her teenage crush.  And now with his hands back where they’d been once before.  Their eyes locked and his face came closer.  Bradie took a deep breath as a surge of adrenalin, lust and anticipation flooded through her.  Was this about to happen?

Christmas Trees. Holiday Music. Sugar Cookies. Glitter and Bows. And Best Of All… the Mistletoe. Romance books enhance our holiday traditions. Who doesn’t love to cuddle under a warm blanket near a fire place on a cold day and read? Hop around with us to celebrate the best romance books of the season.

Read excerpts from some good books. Enter each of the author contests. Tell us what you like to read during the holidays. Find some new-to-you authors to ring in the New Year with.

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Click here to find out who else is in the Mistletoe Hop…

Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 20

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Today I’m sharing with you an excerpt from my story Lucky Mascot. You’ll find the rest of it in Go Deeper Press‘ anthology, Huddle: Sex With Sporty Queers.

When I got there, the hallway was dark, but I could see light bleeding out from under the door of one of the changing rooms at the far end. I didn’t think the element of surprise would be appreciated in a situation like this, so I walked with heavy footsteps and called out as I got close to the door.

“Hello? Anybody there?”

“Who’s that?” It was the sharp response of someone who didn’t want to be disturbed.

“Jed Marshall,” I said, tentatively pushing open the door to the locker room and leaning against the jamb.

On one of the benches inside, with his back resting against a row of lockers, sat a picture-perfect jock, with a blond brush cut and wide-set blue eyes. Square jaw, wide neck, broad shoulders. He also had the biggest boner I’d ever seen pushing out against his sweat pants. I felt a kick in my own pants and lost a breath.

“Hey, I know you,” he said, looking me up and down with an expression more predatory than friendly.

I shrugged. I didn’t recognize him.

“You’re that kid, aren’t you? Used to come to all the matches and is in all the team pictures—Dean Marshall’s kid?”

I nodded. I could never play anonymous. The hall was lined with Founders’ Team photos going back years and, as the lucky mascot, I was in every single one of them in my miniature team uniform.

“The team lucky mascot,” he said, cracking a wide smile. He didn’t seem the least embarrassed or concerned about the bulge in his pants.

“I can’t deny it.”

He held out his hand for me to shake, which I did. He had an incredibly strong grip.

“Dick Gunnison.”

I sat down on the bench opposite him.

“You in the game tomorrow?” I said.

He nodded. “Pitcher.”

I whistled. That was some pressure. “Shouldn’t you be home in bed?”

“Can’t sleep.” He glanced down at his groin.

“It’s pretty impressive,” I said, and I meant it. What I wouldn’t have given to get my mouth around his piece. “Why don’t you just…?”

“Jack off?”

I nodded enviously.

Gunnison held up the hand I’d shaken a moment before and looked at it with an expression of awed wonder. “Can’t do it, man. It’s my lucky pitching hand.”

“It’s not gonna break off from just beating your meat,” I said.

He laughed and massaged his knuckles with his other hand. “Listen, I jack off every night to get to sleep. But whenever I jack off the night before a game, the arm spectacularly fails at the critical moment. Like last year, when we played the Bishops. I needed a curveball to see off their star in the final innings. My arm goes soft, and I throw a meatball. I can’t do it again. I gotta do great tomorrow. There are scouts in town.”

Our little Founders’ Weekend match didn’t often attract scouts from any of the major league teams. They’d only come all the way out here if they’d heard there was someone worth seeing. And if they were in town, chances were, as pitcher, Gunnison would be in their crosshairs. So he was right. He couldn’t afford to fuck up.

“But you gotta sleep. You can’t play if you haven’t slept,” I said.

He put his head in his hands. “I’m so fucking tired,” he said. “But I can’t screw with the wing.”

It was too obvious to come in a blinding flash. I didn’t really give it any thought at all. I simply knelt down in front of him and rested my hands on the waistband of his pants. I glanced up to check he was okay with this. You never know with some jocks: Touch ‘em and it can be like you’ve shocked them with a Taser. But Dick Gunnison was fine with it. The tension had gone out of his eyes, and he shifted his hips forward on the seat so he could lean back.

I slid his sweatpants down his thighs, gently disentangling his cock from the elastic waistband. He wasn’t wearing any shorts underneath, and his giant namesake swung up into my face like it was spring-loaded.

“Oh, man,” was all I could say, as I pushed his pants down around his ankles.

“Sure is a beauty, isn’t it?” he said with a wide grin.

I took hold of it with my hand and moved it a little from side to side. I wanted to admire it for a few seconds before it went out of sight. I’ve sucked a lot of cock in my life—some for money, though more for pleasure, now that I don’t do drugs—and Gunnison wasn’t bragging when he called it a beauty. It was long, with a just-perceptible curve upward, and the girth wasn’t too thick to take away any elegance. I hate cocks like tree trunks, and not just because they’re hard to get in my mouth. But Dick’s dick was in perfect proportion, and the bulbous head at the top had the purplish hue of a cock in need of attention.

Breathtaking. I mean, actually breathtaking. I looked at it and I could hardly breathe. The soft grunt from above told me that Gunnison was impatient for the action to begin, so I bent forward with the tip of my tongue stuck out until I made contact. His cock twitched in my hand, and I had to hold it steady to plant my lips on the end of it. Gunnison’s hips jerked up as I opened my mouth to let the top of his cock inside. He rewarded me with a low grunt and by planting his lucky pitching hand in my hair. Close up, he had the musky, sweaty jock smell I love, and he tasted a little salty from sweat already. I moaned my appreciation and took him deeper into my mouth, letting my teeth graze up and down his shaft, and pulling in my cheeks to create suction.

“Sweet Jesus, just what I needed,” he said, tightening his grip in my hair with one hand, and running his other hand up and down my back.

My forearms were resting on the tops of his thighs, so I used my elbows to gently push them further apart. Holding his dick at a convenient angle, I ran my tongue up and down his shaft, slowly swirling around the top and twisting my way down to the base in a slow procession of nips, bites, and fluttering kisses. His hips writhed beneath me, and the hand that had been on my back now gripped the edge of the bench with white knuckles.

I brought my mouth back to the head and licked around it to make sure it was good and wet. As I blew on it, he let out a long, low moan of torture. The hand gripping my hair pushed my head down until he was fucking my mouth again. I grabbed a handful of his balls and really got to work as he thrust his cock against the back of my throat.

The bench he sat on creaked and groaned, and the lockers above him rattled. My knees grew sore on the concrete floor, and his hand gripping my hair felt like a vice. But it all paled in comparison to the thrill of having such a fucking gorgeous cock in my mouth. My own was screaming for escape, constricted in tight jeans that added a burning friction to every twitch and jerk. Finally, I had to act on it. I took my hand off his leg to reach down and pop the buttons of my fly.

I slowed right down and sucked hard. Gunnison’s hips pushed forward and his grunting became louder. I squeezed his balls, making him roar out his appreciation. It’s just one of things I love about jocks: how noisy they are when you suck ’em off. But I was hardly being quiet myself, slurping up and down his cock and groaning with pleasure, slapping my own rod with my free hand.

Gunnison came first. The feeling of his come hitting the back of my throat pushed me over the edge. I’ve long since learned the art of taking it down without retching, but I pushed a little of it forward to get a good taste of it—sweet and delicious, the fresh-made jizz of a guy who milks it regularly. I swallowed it back, savoring the last drops on my tongue as I let his cock slide back a little in my mouth.

My own orgasm billowed through me like a giant wave, tumbling me in its barrel and turning me inside out. My come spurted onto the floor under the bench in a wide arc, pearly and glistening. My grip on Gunnison’s balls tightened until he had to touch my hand to make me realize what I was doing. So, instead, I bit down on his big, meaty cock until my orgasm subsided, and he seemed quite happy with that.

“Fuck!” he said when I finally took my mouth off his dick and wiped my swollen lips with the back of my hand. “Masterful.”


Buy links:
Go Deeper Press
Amazon UK

Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 19

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This is an excerpt from Risk Rider and Dare Take the Con, a story by Annabeth Leong about two cosplayers (people who go to conventions dressed as comic book characters) whose genderqueer outfits inspire bullying from the crowd but the deepest pleasure in each other. It appeared in Coming Together: For Equality, an anti-bullying anthology edited by Beth Wylde which is raising money for Planting Peace – Equality House. 

Dare stopped the door before it closed. “Would you feel more comfortable if we propped it open? I know we just met. You don’t even know my real name.”

 Her cheeks heated. Lust and Risk Rider’s reflected boldness had led her to take some uncharacteristically reckless actions. She didn’t want to stop, though. Gently, she pulled Dare’s hand away from the door, allowing it to close. “What’s your real name?”

 “Louis Rios.”

 Jamie-Lyn introduced herself, then cut to the chase. “Why did you ask to come to my room?”

“You know why. We both felt it.”

 “We did,” she agreed. Gazing for a moment into his quick, mischievous eyes, Jamie-Lyn decided to take the plunge all the way. Today, with him, she didn’t want to pretend to be anything she wasn’t. Some of her friends back home might have thought it was ironic for her to feel this way while dressed as a comic book character, but the point had always been that when she dressed as Risk Rider, Jamie-Lyn was expressing her best and truest self. Her bravest self.

 She took Dare’s hand—Louis’s hand—and guided it to her crotch, wrapping it around her soft pack. “I’m not exactly traditional,” Jamie-Lyn said. “Do you mind?”

 “I like it.”

 The smile that spread over her face made Jamie-Lyn feel fierce, victorious, and hungry for more. She wrapped an arm around Louis in a grip meant to claim him and kissed him just the same way. She kissed him as a man would kiss, guiding the pace, teasing his mouth open with her tongue, her lips outside his lips, her jaw pressing his open wider, her hands making him submit to her.

 Dare gave a soft moan, its masculine yet submissive timbre sending a thrill through Jamie-Lyn to every place it counted. She kissed him harder, and walked them both toward her bed. Inside Risk Rider’s leathers, her body grew hard and needy and demanding. Jamie-Lyn manhandled Dare onto the bed, spread him out beneath her, and explored him with firm, groping hands.

 Finally, she came up for air. His eyes were wide, the pupils dilated. Louis’s lips remained parted, and his cheeks had flushed a lovely dark pink against his olive skin. Jamie-Lyn cupped the side of his face, rubbing her palm against the stubble that ran along his jaw. She ground her hips against him, rubbing her package against his upper thigh. “If I asked you to suck it, would you do that for me?” Her voice came out so gruff and raw that she barely recognized it.

So many times, it had taken her months of hinting and subtlety to get to this point with a man, and now she’d come out and asked for it within minutes of meeting Louis. Jamie-Lyn nearly took her own breath away with her audacity. Louis, too, seemed to be in awe. He nodded, mouth open in a soundless moan.

 Jamie-Lyn scrambled up to her knees beside him and fumbled with the fly of her leather pants, pulling out the head of her silicone dick so she could feed it to him. Louis kissed it, his lips plush and full. A trace of the powder she’d used on the soft pack stuck to him as he pulled away. She caught the back of his head and guided him back to her. He had to hold a sit-up position to suck her, but she liked seeing him make the effort.

 Louis whimpered and grabbed Jamie-Lyn’s ass. For all the submission of his attitude, he held her butt cheek with firm authority, cupping the curve of it in a way that made her deeply aware of her femininity even as she slipped her dick between his lips.

 He’d done this, or something like it, before. Louis knew just how to suck Jamie-Lyn’s dick so that he made the base of it press into her clit. He also made a good show out of it, pulling almost all the way off every time so she could experience the repeated pleasure of watching her silicone extension disappear down his throat. She sank her hands into his thick black hair and sped up the rhythm, her hips rocking as he brought her closer to orgasm.

 “Touch yourself,” Jamie-Lyn whispered through gritted teeth. “I want to see your cock.”

 Leather creaked as he groped himself. The teeth of his zipper released one by one. Jamie-Lyn twisted her head to look over her shoulder at Louis’s exposed dick. Flushed bright pink, weeping pre-cum, it seemed paradoxically delicate in the grasp of his slim fingers. She thought of her clit, hidden behind the soft pack. In her mind, dick and clit reversed, folded into each other, became a single pleasure center that they both shared.

 “Make yourself come,” she commanded.

 For Equality (200x300)Coming Together: For Equality is available here:

 All Romance: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-comingtogetherforequality-1364546-362.html

 Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Coming-Together-Equality-Robert-Buckley-ebook/dp/B00H0JYYGK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1386845604&sr=8-1&keywords=coming+together%3A+for+equality

 Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00H0JYYGK/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00H0JYYGK&linkCode=as2&tag=ctogether-20

 Coming Together – http://www.eroticanthology.com/forequality.htm

 Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/383231?ref=comingtogether

Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 17

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Today’s excerpt is an exclusive from Violet Blue’s Best Women’s Erotica 2014. It’s from the story Toys by my fellow BWE-er, Jade A Waters – she’s relatively new on the scene and I can’t wait to see a whole lot more from her…

“I have an idea.” Daniel crawled over to the bed, planting his lips on hers before running his hand down her belly and between her thighs. He teased her with a quick exploration of her outer folds, and Jennifer moaned when he yanked his hand away. “Close your eyes and I’ll pick something.” He paused to slip his tongue into her mouth, twirling it in a more frenzied movement than usual. Suddenly, he stopped.

“And then, I’m going to fuck you until you cry out for me, over and over again. What do you think?”

Jennifer gasped. “Oh wow. Yes, please.” She closed her eyes as directed, feeling the shifts of the bed as Daniel climbed back down to the floor. The anticipation was more intense with her eyes shut, the room’s air tickling her pert nipples and the abandoned, heated creases of her sex. She tried to stay calm as she listened to the sounds of him riffling through the box.

“Oh yes. This is it.”

What had he grabbed?

“Keep your eyes closed, okay?”

“Yes.” He crawled over her and settled his weight on her thighs. She could feel his gaze over her, and his fully hardened cock now nudged her about an inch below her pussy.

Daniel laid his hand over her mound. He circled his fingers over her trimmed curls, then dipped one of them between her folds to graze her opening. “Jennifer…you’re soaked already.” He grunted in approval. “I can’t wait to see what happens when I use your toy on you.”

Jennifer squirmed.

Was it a vibrator?

Had he chosen a dildo?

“Or maybe toys.”

Her inner walls tightened. A plug?

Daniel shoved his finger into her and she moaned. “Dammit, baby, you’re so wet I could fuck you right now, but I won’t. None for me until you come.” He rolled off and licked her belly, tracing his tongue down until he lingered above her clit, and Jennifer pinched her eyes shut tighter. She already wanted to scream, and the slow glides of his finger while he blew hot air against her mound made for the sweetest torture.

“Please,” she whispered.

But Daniel withdrew his finger.

Before she could speak, he pressed the silicone head of one of her dildos against her. Jennifer wasn’t sure which one it was, and she inhaled while Daniel adjusted the tip to fit inside her opening.

“Do you like that?”

She nodded. He inched it farther, moving so slowly the thick plastic rubbed along her walls in the most delightful of ways. Once the base struck her folds, Daniel jerked it back until only the tip remained inside her.

Jennifer growled at the immediate emptiness. “More,” she begged.

Best Women’s Erotica 2014 is available at:

Amazon        Barnes and Noble        Amazon Canada        Amazon UK

The Book Depository        Books-A-Million         IndieBound

Cleis Press        Powell’s        Chapters.Indigo.Ca

Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 16

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Today’s excerpt is from my story Her First Taste, which is included in the anthology Smut for Chocoholics. It’s my first foray into science fiction, and I can’t tell you how much fun it was to write.

By 3013, human beings have colonised space, with outposts on a myriad of earth-like planets in our own galaxy and beyond.  Minerals and precious metals have become commonplace now that man can plunder the universe – but one substance remains rare and valued. Chocolate is the new gold and cocoa beans the currency of choice for trading across the solar systems.  So valuable is the rich brown substance that few people alive in the 30th century have ever tasted it – it would be, quite simply, the equivalent of eating diamonds. But for those who have, the taste is addictive.

Colonel Coco Murgatroyd’s spaceship has been captured by the fearsome space pirate, Titus Bonaparte, for her cargo of cocoa beans – and now he is determined to make her taste some forbidden pleasures…

Bonaparte had inched forward a little, moving closer to where Coco now stood with her back against the counter.  In an instant, he had the gun out of her hand and in his own huge fist.  A second later, it was flying across the kitchen on an arc that took it right to the other end of the room.

He towered above her with a menacing stare.

‘Now, back to where we were,’ he said through gritted teeth.

He reached across to one of the white china bowls that Bizet had left further along the counter.  Coco tried to push past him, to get away, but he easily held her still with his other hand.  And then, as the smell of fresh chocolate assaulted her nostrils, she felt a tremble pass through her, shattering her will to fight Bonaparte off.

He pushed her roughly back so she was lying on the steel counter and it took him only moments to divest her of her uniform.  A growl of appreciation rumbled in his throat as she lay on the cold metal wearing just her black lace bra and panties.

Fear melded with excitement deep within Coco, making her shiver, but when she stared up into the pirate’s piercing blue eyes above her, all she could think about was kissing him.  A needy whimper escaped her lips, even as she silently cursed her body for being a traitor.  Titus ran a warm hand smoothly along the length of her torso as if he was calming a frightened animal and, indeed, it had just that effect on her.  She stopped trembling and lay silently waiting for what he would do next.

But if her body had become pliant, her mind was anything but.  Deep behind her half-closed eyes, Coco was trying to hatch a plan.  Sex was the only weapon she had left and she was an expert.  Let him think he was seducing her as, technically, he was; but once his guard was down she would make her move.  They were in the best equipped kitchen on the ship and that meant the sharpest knives.  Inside her mind, she replayed the layout of the room, trying to remember where she might have seen a knife block.

Bonaparte’s hand stroked her cheek.

‘You are incredibly beautiful, Colonel Murgatroyd,’ he murmured softly.  ‘What would it take for you to leave the Command Fleet and become mine?’

‘It’ll never happen,’ hissed Coco.  ‘Even in your dreams.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

Bonaparte grabbed her wrists and in one easy move had them pinned down above her head.  Coco’s eyes snapped open as his mouth met hers and she was nearly dazzled by the sharp icy blue of his eyes.  His tongue forced her lips apart and then she felt something hard and dry being pushed into her mouth.  Her saliva flowed and the hard object yielded up its taste and its smell…  Oh my god.  Coco would have gasped but the pirate’s tongue stopped any noise escaping and he worked the soft disc of chocolate across her tongue.  The smell, the taste, it was nothing like anything she’d ever experienced.  It reminded her strongly of sex but had a flavour all of its own and as it liquefied on her tongue she had to swallow, carrying it deeper still, allowing the overpowering aroma to flood her nasal passages.

Bonaparte raised his mouth from hers.

‘You like?’

His voice had a rasp to it and with his free hand he pushed down the cup on one side of her bra to release her breast.  Rough fingers chafed her nipple making it pucker and stand proud.

Coco lay still, simply looking up at him.  She felt limp and weak but at the same time powerfully sexually charged.   Swallowing the last of the chocolate in her mouth, she bit her lower lip with a moan.  Titus freed her other breast and his mouth alighted on it softly, his tongue sweeping circles round her nipple until it too stood erect and straining.  Coco sighed, still overwhelmed by the sensation in her mouth.

‘More,’ she whispered, grasping a handful of his shaggy blond hair to pull his face up to hers.

‘Close your eyes,’ he said.

She did and then he left her for a moment on the counter, alone.  But all thought of escaping him had evaporated and she lay waiting, longing to renew the flavour that still lingered in her mouth.  Suddenly he was back and she sensed his presence kneeling above her.  Then her lips were forced open and her mouth flooded by the taste of chocolate and the touch of cock.  An enormous cock judging by the size of the head.  Slathered in soft molten chocolate that was even now dribbling down her chin, down the back of her throat, subsuming all conscious thought and drowning her in sensation.

She lifted a hand to grip the base of the shaft and found that her fingers didn’t even meet around it, while with her other hand she felt for the proportionate weight of the attached balls.  Above her, Titus Bonaparte grunted and then he slowly flexed his hips to push his way further into her.  Back; then in again.  He slowly mouth fucked her as her eager tongue licked the irresistible coating away to reveal his splendid manhood.

Pinching her nipples, Titus finally withdrew with a flourish and pushed her back on the counter.

‘Open your legs.’

Arching her back and bending her knees, Coco spread her thighs wide, ready to take all that he could give her.  The taste of chocolate was still strong in her mouth but the dull ache of longing in her clit needed immediate attention.  Probing fingers spread her lips and she hardly dared breathe as she waited to feel the push of his enormous cock.  But instead a sensation of warmth came from above and tricked down, coating her mound and her clit in a velvety caress.   She opened her eyes to see Titus kneeling above her, pouring molten chocolate from a thick white china jug, his eyes sparkling and his tongue poking out between his lips.

‘Sex without chocolate isn’t sex at all,’ he said, grinning down at her.

And it was easy to believe him.

Available from Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk

Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 15

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Today’s excerpet is from Straight Shooter by Jacob Louder – and I’m sending a huge thank you to Go Deeper Press for putting us in touch.

 Last year before Christmas, I took my girlfriend Evelyn to Victoria’s Secret so that she could buy herself some lingerie to wear for me on New Year’s Eve. Evelyn’s got a great body: slender waist, tits so huge you’d think she’d topple right over, and an ass I’d literally kill for to keep as mine. I couldn’t think of a better way for us to spend our first night of the new year than with me tearing anything made of black lace from her body.

            It was busy in the store that day—a pre-holiday sale, of course—but my girl has a way with lines and sales people. She gets what she wants because she’s irresistible, with her long brown hair and big brown eyes—and let’s not forget that rack. Plus, she’s charming as hell.

            Even with all the people in the store, Evelyn managed to get the attention of a sales woman, who led her directly into the dressing room area, which was just as bustling as the rest of the place.  Before she disappeared from my view, she turned to me and said, “Follow me, Michael.” A little uncomfortable with being a lone guy standing around in a bra and panties shop, even though it was one of my favorites, I was happy with the invite. After all, I’d get to see my girl strip off.

            I made my way through a sea of women holding lacy bras and animal print thongs. The sales woman gave me the cutest smile—her blue eyes sparkling, her thick, cock-sucking lips painted sports car red—when I entered the dressing room behind Evelyn. She said, “Just press this button if you two need anything, and I’ll be happy to help. Otherwise, have some fun.” I wondered if those words were provoked by the mini-tent I was popping in my pants. Sometimes I love this store too much.

            I sat on the bench next to the mirror as Evelyn handed me her purse, then her jacket, her tight, pink sweater, her ass-hugging jeans—you get the idea. When I finished straightening all her clothes and underwear on my lap, I looked up to notice her completely naked in front of the mirror. I loved her olive skin, her every curve and dimple, her earthy scent—a mixture of her body lotion and essential oils. She had just shaven her pussy, so there was a hint of stubble on her mound. I loved to rub my own face stubble over it and watch the way she’d move her hips, the way she’d moan, always pressing her wet pussy up against my chin.

            It took me a little while—too long, in fact—for me to realize that Evelyn wasn’t even close to getting the nightie on. Instead, she was rubbing those big tits in front of the mirror, taking in every ounce of her beauty in the bright light. She brushed her index fingers over her big, brown nipples then gave them a quick pinch. From my view in the mirror, I watched them harden. That’s when my cock sprang into life—no mini-tent anymore. Watching my girl loving herself in the mirror gave me a serious bout of wood that could only be remedied by one of us jerking me off, which would undoubtedly end with my huge load all over the pink walls of our dressing room.

            She must have seen a change in my face. With a hand on one of her breasts and another heading down her stomach and stopping at her pussy, she turned to me and said, “Want to have public sex with me Mikey?”

            I literally pushed every piece of her clothing onto the floor when she dropped to her knees in front of me. Before I knew it, my cock was out and in her manicured hands. She looked up at me from her place on the floor and gave me her luscious smile. “A little sucking for you first, and then a nice hard fuck for me, okay?”

            I nodded. I wanted her to stop talking and start already. I would have given her anything she wanted, to be serious. I would have bought her every single sexy underthing in the store, especially when she licked her lips and then took the entire length of my dick down her throat in just one try. That’s the beauty of my girl. She’s good at everything she does. There’s nothing better than Evelyn’s blowjobs. Actually, there’s Evelyn’s pussy, but I don’t think about her pussy until I’m in it—that’s how good her blowjobs are.

There we were, with women coming and going from the other dressing rooms, women getting naked and slipping into beautiful lingerie, women talking to their friends through the doors of their changing cubes, and Evelyn was bobbing her head up and down, working my cock with her mouth and a firm hand. Her tongue was like hot, wet feathers all over me. She rubbed my sack through the crotch of my jeans, too, because she knows exactly what I like. She was blowing me so hard and quick that, every now and then, she’d let a sucking noise escape her mouth—a noise that sounded only like a cock was getting drained.

            I watched her run her tongue along the underside of my dick before she stood up again. “Up,” she said to me, and you better believe I listened. I stood, and my cock bounced up and down with my movement. Covered in Evelyn’s saliva, it glistened in the dressing room light.

Read the end of this story at godeeperpress.com this December.

 Jacob Louder writes all sorts of crazy things, but writing porn is his favorite. He hopes it’s yours, too. Jacob has published flash fiction in the Go Deeper Press anthology Dirty Little Numbers, and is currently at work on a story series for Go Deeper Press, tentatively titled First. You can Tweet him at @jakelouder or send him nasty messages at jacob.t.louder@gmail.com.

Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 14

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Well, you didn’t really expect me to do 24 days of advent calendar without mentioning the zombies, did you? If you haven’t come across them before – give them a chance – they’re a loveable bunch of critters, really!

However, this is a more serious excerpt than usual, taken from the last story in Zombie Erotoclypse, called Bar the Door.

No matter how many times you dream of the worst possible disaster befalling you, when it actually happens it’s ten thousand times more terrible than anything you could imagine.  Think about that for a moment and then try to imagine the split second that’s so terrifying it goes beyond anything you could have dreamt.

That’s what it was like.  That day.  That moment.

Galen knocked on the door in the secret pattern, I drew back the bolts and first thing I saw was blood.  On his shoulder, all the way down his arm, soaking the sleeve of his shirt with a dark, sticky stain.  I smelt it too, sweet and metallic, somehow animal.

Terror swept through me and I dropped to my knees.  It was the moment I’d been dreading so long and it hit me like a punch in the gut.  I couldn’t breathe and my head started spinning.

I should have slammed the door in his face.  I know that now.  But I knew it then and I didn’t do it.  We’d been living like this for so many months I’d lost count.  And every day, before either one of us went out to scavenge food, we repeated the mantra: if a zombie attacks, don’t come back/bar the door to the biters and the bitten.  Galen was wrong to come home to me once he’d been mauled and I was wrong to let him in.  But I’m glad I did.  Whatever the future holds as a result of our actions that day, I’m glad Galen just didn’t vanish without a trace into the zombie hoards.  Because that’s what would have happened if he hadn’t come back to me.

Galen pushed past me into the apartment.

“Get the fucking door shut,” he said, his voice a dry rasp.

He staggered to the couch while I fought with reality.  It took the sound of a zombie blood howl on the porch to bring me round.  I leapt to my feet and slammed the door, throwing the bolts with practiced speed.   Then I peered out through the metal grid covering the only small window left at the front of the house.  There were three of them, mature and fetid zombies, lumbering across our porch and I immediately heard one of them scraping against the door.  I reached for the rifle.

“Leave them,” said Galen.  “They’ll go away when they realize they can’t get in.  Don’t waste bullets on them. You can’t afford to throw any away now.”

‘Now.’  I knew what he was referring to—and ‘you’. An icy cold hand clasped around my heart.  I went over to where he lay sprawled on the couch.  There was a lump in my throat when I tried to speak.


“…happened?  I got careless, Emma.  I fucking got complacent.”

And then my big, strong, adorable Galen started to cry.  It was something I’d never seen him do and it cut me up.  Even more than seeing the blood on his shoulder that was his death knell.

He wiped his eyes with a bloody hand and sniffed.

“There were six or seven of them.  They came at me out of nowhere.  I got three of the bastards but I wasn’t quick enough and…”  He glanced down at his shoulder.  “It’s not deep.  Just a flesh wound.  But it’s enough.”

I’d never heard that tone of bitterness in Galen’s voice before.  It made me wonder what else there was about him that I’d never know.  The childhood stories he hadn’t got round to telling me yet.  The places he’d been.  The likes and dislikes we hadn’t had time to compare.


I didn’t know what to say but luckily for me he took control as usual.

“Emma, you’ve got to be strong for me, baby.  I’ve got maybe twenty-four hours left before I turn and I need your help.”

“Anything,” I said, and I meant it.

“I need you to stay safe, so you’ve got to tie me up.  Real secure because when I start to turn, I don’t want to be able to get at you.”

I didn’t want to cry but I couldn’t stop myself.

“Maybe if I clean the wound out…”

“Don’t, baby,” he snapped.  “We both know what this means so, please, just do what I say.”

While he went in the shower, I found two lengths of rope to tie him with.  When he came out there was just a small, jagged gash on his shoulder to show where he’d been bitten.  Just a couple of inches long. If I hadn’t known better, I would never have believed that this could have been enough to transform such a strong, healthy man into a rotting, walking corpse.  The rest of him looked completely normal, the Galen I knew and loved.  Shoulder length black hair dripping water down his strong torso, droplets glistening in the peppery sprinkling of chest hair.  Beautifully sculpted arms and legs, long and lean.  Even his feet looked good and, as far as I’m concerned, that’s rare on a guy.

He smiled at me and I smiled back, even though I could see the sorrow in his gaze.  He would certainly be able to see it in my red rimmed eyes.

“Tie me to the bed, baby.”  It came out as hardly more than a whisper.

“Then what?” I said.

He didn’t need to answer.  Working as quickly and as gently as I could, I secured first his wrists to the headboard and then his ankles to the corner posts.  He was quietly compliant, watching me as I worked, studying my face and my hands as if he wanted to imprint them forever on his memory.   And I studied him, spread-eagled and naked in front of me.  I would need to hold this image in my head far longer than he.

His shoulder was bleeding a little, so I fetched a bandaid from the bathroom cabinet to cover it up.  He winced as I wiped the blood away with a tissue and applied the bandage.

“It hurts?” I asked.

“Like a bitch,” he said, smiling up at me.  “But you know what would dull the pain?”

I grinned.  Even at the worst times, Galen’s mind would wander back to sex and being tied up had always been a big turn on for him.

“Grant a dying man his final wish, babe.”

I would have laughed if it hadn’t been so painfully true.  But Galen was, as ever, able to compartmentalize his life and now it was sex, not death by zombie bite, on his mind.  His cock twitched as if filled up and the sight of it helped me to change gears as well.  Galen’s cock always made my mouth water and my pussy wet.

I stood at the end of the bed and slowly started stripping off my clothes, rolling my T-shirt up my torso to reveal my flat stomach and the gradual swell of my breasts.

“That’s the way,” said Galen, his voice thick with longing.

I pulled the top up over my head and dropped it to the floor.  Then I lowered my hands to my pants and popped open the fastening.  As they slid down my legs to the ground, I slipped my thumbs into the rim of my panties, running them round the waistband provocatively.

“You want to see more?” I said.

“Is a zombie hungry?” he answered.  Black humor was the only humor at a time like this.

I pulled down my pants and launched myself forward onto the bed between his legs.  He smelt fresh and clean from the shower and he seemed to positively gleam with good health.  I could hardly believe that he must have already started rotting inside, however microscopically.  I slid up his body, sweeping his stomach and chest with my breasts until I was close enough to kiss him on the mouth.

Same old mouth.  Same old taste.  And always the best kisser.  I pushed away the thought that bubbled under the surface.  Zombie mouth.  Zombie biter.  But not yet.  We still had a few more hours of being Emma and Galen.  He responded to my kiss with a less familiar urgency.  His usual languid exploration of my mouth was replaced with a pushing, searching tongue and as I slipped my tongue between his lips, he sucked hard and his back arched up so he could press himself against the length of my body.

I ran my hands up and down his torso, feeling the swell of his erection against me.  God, how I loved this man’s cock.  I reached my hand down to it and he let out an appreciative moan as I enveloped it with my fingers.  It was fully erect, hard as a glass dildo beneath its covering of soft skin.  I ran my index finger up and down the shaft and he bucked underneath me.  Then I stretched down to cup his balls, holding them as gently as bird’s eggs, working them a little against each other while I whispered in his ear.  He turned his head and caught my earlobe with his teeth, nibbling gently until I giggled and pulled away.

I shuffled back down the bed until I was in a position to take his cock in my mouth.  But before I sucked it in, I showered it with a flurry of little kisses, up and down, still holding his balls but now tugging a little.  Galen groaned and his cock grew hot, the head pulsing under the touch of my lips.  I pushed the tip of my tongue out between them and let it make contact with the soft skin at the apex of the head.  I felt the tiny slit and tasted the salty pre-cum that leaked out of it and then I opened my lips and drew him into the warm cavern of my mouth.

zombie2Available from:


Amazon UK


Barnes & Noble


Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 13

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Justine Elyot’s brought today’s Christmas offering: “My characters Bella and Guy from Under The Mistletoe could have done with an electric blanket when they sneaked off to some disused rooms in Guy’s father’s country house – disused, unheated rooms. But secret passions have to be indulged somehow…”


“He doesn’t ask me to choose a room again, bundling me through the nearest door. I love being in his arms so much that I barely notice the bitter cold air until Guy sits us down on the bed and gasps.

“I forgot. They don’t heat this wing if nobody’s staying here. Christ, I can see my breath.”

“Oh dear.”

My toes aren’t best pleased with the situation either.

“Only one thing for it.”

He pulls off his shoes and burrows under the covers, pulling me in after him. We lie clasped together like shivering limpets, waiting for our combined body heat to spread slowly through our limbs and kick-start our blood into efficient circulation.

“I know what would help,” he says, and we kiss again. How much kissing have we done today? Enough to fill an urn or a swimming pool or an aircraft hangar? A huge volume of urgent, desperate snogging, more than perhaps I ever did all year with Rupert. I snuggle my hands up inside his jumper, placing my palms flat on his chest then sliding them around under his armpits, hugging his back.

He has a bunch of my robe in one hand, around by my hip and he uses the other to grab my hair into a ponytail and hold it tight. The temperature rises, slowly but steadily. It is delicious beyond compare to be in this bed with him, lying on a soft mattress, our heads on pillows, our ankles wound around each other’s.

Somewhere deep inside our kiss, our bodies move and change positions and I am lying underneath him with my nightdress rucked above my knees. He puts a hand down to the hem and starts to raise it, slowly, his fingertips tingling against my leg.

I make incoherent sounds into his mouth, but I have no intention of stopping him. I know now that I will not refuse him anything and, even if it turns out to be nothing and he is lying about the Met and only after a Christmas night shag, it doesn’t matter. I will have known real desire and how a man can make me feel. I won’t ever settle for less than this again.

I want to remove his jumper. There are too many layers between his skin and my exploring hands. He anticipates me, kneeling up with his thighs astride my hips and pulls it over his head, tousling his dark hair so that I can’t resist reaching up to it.

He takes my wrists, though, after throwing the jumper aside, and pins them over my head, looming over me and growling like a tiger.

“Got you exactly where I want you now,” he says.

I put up a pretend fight, kicking my heels against the mattress and wriggling, but I don’t want to escape and he knows it.

He makes little swoops down to nip at my neck and earlobes.

“I could eat you up.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Who said you had any say in the matter?”

Then I really have no say in anything at all because his tongue is back in my mouth, scouring me for all it’s worth.

When he releases my wrists, I pull the bedclothes back over us – his straddling move pushed them halfway down our bodies. The bedding is rather ornate, in a paisley pattern with lots of gold embroidery, so he looks like a king with his mantle around his shoulders. King Guy. I cup his face in my hands and drink my fill of him. Now that the jumper is off I can feel the fever-heat of his body inside the cotton shirt. His belt buckle digs into my pelvis when he grinds into me, which he does often.

“Ouch,” I say when I come up for air. “Your belt buckle. I think it’s made a pattern on me.”

“I’d like to see it,” he says, kneeling up again.

There goes the bedding, once more.

He unbuckles the belt with a flourish. God, that looks incredibly sexy, especially now he’s all rumpled and mussed with pink cheeks and a heaving chest. He really could be some latterday warrior chieftain – he has the right kind of wild fervour in his eye. And it’s all for me.”

Lucky, lucky Bella! I think she’s forgotten about the temperature outside her body.

 Under The Mistletoe is available as a standalone ebook: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Under-The-Mistletoe-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00APONEVI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1386362494&sr=8-1&keywords=justine+elyot+under+the+mistletoe

 Or as one of three stories in the Mistletoe Kisses anthology:


 (The anthology is also available in print.)

Happy reading – and compliments of the season to Tamsin and to all you advent calendar door-openers.