Category Archives: Sex

Wolves at the Door by Skye Jones

wolves at the door

Blurb:

Research scientist, Brooke Buchanan, has agreed to spend a year studying the wildlife of a remote Scottish region. Alone in a wooden cabin with only her dog for company, she is determined not to be scared. But what she eventually finds living out there in the lonely woods shocks her to the core.

Sexy wolf shifter, Drew, knows the curvaceous female will be trouble, but he can’t resist her amazing scent. He seduces Brooke, and they spend a hot and sensual night together, but Drew wants more. He wants Brooke as his mate.

Disturbed by all she’s discovered, and overwhelmed by her intense feelings for the charismatic Drew, Brooke panics and runs.

Can Drew find her before it is too late?
*Wolves at the Door is book one in the new, Shifters of the Glen, paranormal romance series. Each book can be read as a standalone. No cliff hangers.

**This book was first released in the Shifters Gone Alpha boxset, and has been added to, containing bonus scenes and a new ending.

 

Buy Links:

Amazon US: https://amzn.com/B01FORFUEY

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01FORFUEY

 

Excerpt:

Some clichés are used for a reason. They are used because they are so bloody true. Happily, most people don’t ever find this out. They don’t experience their whole life flashing before their eyes as a train hurtles toward them. Or feel their blood turn to frozen sludge in their very veins. Right then, I experienced my own little clichéd moment. My blood ran cold, while my heart stuttered painfully in my chest.

Somehow, I managed to speak, and my voice came out calm enough to belie my inner turmoil. “I don’t like your game. And if you don’t go, and take your friends with you, I’m calling the police.”

He sighed. “Such gratitude. I could go, but then they’d come in, and I don’t think you’d like the results very much.”

“They didn’t come in last night.” I shot back.

“Because I sat here last night, too.”

What? The very idea of someone sitting, in the dark, watching me while I slept unawares, had every single centimeter of skin bumping up as the hair rose all over my body.

“How did you get in? I locked the door.” I glared at Sandy in the dark. Useless guard dog she made.

“I have a key,” he said. “It’s been in my family for years. I sat here and guarded you. Nobody will hurt you with me here.”

His soothing, deep, dark voice once again washed over me. It almost lulled me into security, despite my better judgment.

What would he look like? My mind had been whirring away, conjuring up all sorts of terrible visions. He might be like the bald, hideous creature from those old black and white vampire movies. Or perhaps he’d be tall and darkly handsome, in a devilish way. Something out of a Gothic novel. My very own Heathcliff…which wasn’t a good thing, I’d always thought Heathcliff cruel and mad, rather than exciting and sexy. With trembling fingers, I reached out and clicked on the night-light. Not knowing seemed scarier than the reality of what I might see.

He gave a hiss and put a hand over his eyes, giving me time to take him in. Normal. My first, astonished thought was he looked normal. Large, sure. Tall. Even sitting in the chair as he was, I could tell as much. And broad. His shoulders were brawny, defined by his checkered shirt. But normal all the same. He wore faded jeans and a white T-shirt, loosely covered by the unbuttoned checked shirt. The ensemble was finished with the sort of boots construction workers favored.

“Christ. Warn a guy before you try to blind him.” He moved his hand from his face and scowled…and I stared some more.

Okay, not quite normal. Unless you count looking like you’ve dropped from heaven as normal, which I most certainly didn’t. Handsome didn’t quite cut it. Blindingly, stupendously beautiful, almost did him justice. Not devilishly handsome as I’d imagined, but a man with the face of an angel.


Balancing Act is Official! #LGBT #Gay #Romance

I just signed a contract for Balancing Act with Liquid Silver Books! It feels good to be back in the saddle after a rather long writing hiatus, and I’m trying hard not to let the Samhain news tarnish what is usually one of the greatest highs I know. I’m also plugging along on the new book in my Shooting Stars series starring mega-model Andy (who you’ll meet in BA. By the way, I love shortening Balancing Act to BA. Cracks me up). So far so good with the current WIP. You can check out my Pinterest board for Vic, Andy’s smokin’ hot bad boy bodyguard. I’ll keep adding, so feel free to follow along for more of my inspirational photos. 😉 I think you’re going to love these two and I’ve definitely fallen for them, so that certainly makes the writing easier.

To celebrate BA releasing sometime in the next three/four months, I’ll give you a teaser (unedited, of course)kyrie. 🙂

 

Blurb:

Greg Dwyer and Kyrie Li are living the glorious couple life in New York City. Or are they? When struggling actor Kyrie lands a modeling job, he’s ecstatic to be able to pitch in for his share of the mortgage and to plan a secret birthday vacation for his best-friend-turned-boyfriend.

Of course, Greg is suspicious that Anders Berglund, the gorgeous and androgynous Swedish cover model the designers love to pair with Kyrie, is after his man. And maybe Kyrie is encouraging a growing closeness with the guy.

Greg is probably to blame if Kyrie is drawn to the openly gay and seriously beautiful Andy. With Andy, Kyrie can be himself, as loud and proud as he’s always been. But Greg’s

sexuality stays firmly locked in the closest except for when he’s with Kyrie’s supportive family or alone with the man he loves.

To make matters worse, Greg’s out-of-touch mom meets with financial ruin and moves in with the couple, forcing him into the closet in his own home.

Can Greg find a way to stand up to mommy dearest and win back a love he fought so hard to reach? He discovers the road to pride begins at home, and with accepting oneself first. Otherwise, it’s just a dead-end street.

(NSFW) Excerpt:

Kyrie loved being the seductive bottom; getting Greg all worked up with his teasing and flirting. Backing off while Greg simmered. Then Kyrie would stoke him higher, pressing further until Greg eventually broke and became the domineering top. Usually they let the game go for a while, pushing each other’s buttons in their own drawn-out version of foreplay.

The sliver of pain slicing down Kyrie’s crack paired succulently with the throbbing wood pressed against his lower belly. All signs told him they were going straight to sudden death—no warm up, no scrimmage, just hot, fast action. Game on.

“What’re you gonna do to me?”

“I should make you beg.” Greg grabbed Kyrie’s hard-on with his other hand. “Make you drop on your knees and suck me off. Then get me hard again for your turn.” Kyrie whimpered, his mouth filling with saliva. “Get my cock nice and wet before I feed it to that greedy ass of yours.”

“Yes.” It was a husky wanton word, more moan than speech. Kyrie closed his eyes and in the darkness the scruff he adored grazed his chin and cheeks as Greg’s lips covered his. His tongue split Kyrie’s mouth open, not like he didn’t want it, but the coy act was a tough one to break. Well, Greg broke it. Butchered it. Tenderized Kyrie’s tongue with his own until Kyrie’s thighs quivered and the strip of spandex jammed up his ass became another lover he wanted to hump when his pelvic thrusts pitched him away from the hard slab of man rutting against his front.

Greg cupped Kyrie’s balls again. “Whose are these?”

“Yours.” Kyrie’s breath stuttered while Greg dragged fingers over his cock, a bit hard, a bit rough. Absolutely perfect.

“Whose dick it this?” Greg milked precome from Kyrie like a seasoned farmhand, leaning down to bite Kyrie’s lower lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. Kyrie groaned.

“Yours, Greg.”

“Turn around.” In case Kyrie wasn’t about to follow orders, Greg spun him so his palms slapped the wall, his face pressed to cool paint as Greg slid warm hands up and under Kyr’s mesh top. He pinched his erect nipples, eliciting a gasp, and then stroked Kyrie’s satin-covered dick before heading back toward his waistband. Kyrie braced for another tug upward, but Greg surprised him by yanking his underwear down. The burn on his crack flared and abated, and then Greg’s fingers, slick with spit, were drifting down the cleft and pressing against his hole like a balm.

“Whose tight ass is this, Kyr?”

Jealous horny Greg had to be Kyrie’s favorite sex toy. “It can be yours.”

Greg punished, or maybe rewarded him, with a thick pointer finger piercing him fully, no warning. Kyrie sobbed, cheek hitting the wall. Greg’s mouth found his earlobe, biting, and then licking, his finger fucking Kyrie slowly while the hard cock caged in fine wool mimicked the action against Kyrie’s lower back. “Just mine.” Greg growled against his ear, nipping at the delicate skin below before sucking it into his mouth for a second. “You don’t want me marking you for your photo shoot, you better give me the right answer.”

————–

Yay! Sorry for the HUGE wait on this book. Hopefully it will be worth it! 🙂 By the way, if you haven’t read Hard Act to Follow yet, you might want to get on that since Balancing Act continues with Greg and Kyrie’s story (as well as introduces Andy, who gets the next book).

-Kimber

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Free story when you sign up for my totally unspammy newsletter!


The Gazillionaire & the Virgin #Giveaway #BDSM

 

Today I have the lovely Lisabet Sarai stopping by with info on her new release, The Gazillionaire & the Virgin. To celebrate her book tour, Lisabet has a couple of giveaways, so read on for a sample of her refreshing role-reversal BDSM romance, and to learn how to be in the running for a $50 gift card or a paperback copy of The Gazillionaire & the Virgin!

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Letting My Characters Lead

By Lisabet Sarai

On the plotter versus pantser dimension, I usually lean more toward plotting. I don’t do really detailed outlines or character sketches before I begin a book, but normally I have a pretty clear idea of the story arc. Often I will create a scene list. In particular, I know how I want the book to end. The process of writing is something like directing a film, as I walk the characters through the scenes, moving them in the direction of the climax and resolution.

The Gazillionaire and the Virgin was different. This was the first novel I’ve written using the Character-driven Random Walk Method. When I began writing, all I had was a title and the two main characters (reflected in the title), Rachel and Theo. I really had no idea what they’d do, other than having sex and falling in love.

I did know this was going to be an erotic romance. In fact, although the book deliberately shreds romance stereotypes, it preserves the essential core of romance, namely, the characters’ journey toward a loving relationship. So I understood there had to be obstacles or conflicts that would stand in the way of the happy ending. At the start, though, I couldn’t have told you the nature of those obstacles. I didn’t plan. I didn’t outline. That’s not like me at all! I simply sat down at my computer, invoked Rachel and Theo, and let them interact. At each point in the plot, the focus character in some sense decided what would happen next.

I’d expected the book would be 20K at most. As I let Rachel and Theo lead me deeper into their story, I discovered I was wrong. They did not want to be rushed. It took four chapters for them to get to their first erotic encounter. The revelation that they shared kinky interests took another four. By the time I reached the book’s climax, the events that tear them apart, I had more or less figured out how they’d reconcile, but I couldn’t make them follow my script. Theo turned out to be far more stubborn than I would have guessed. Fortunately, Rachel’s imagination came to the rescue. Still, every time I sat down to write what I thought would be the final chapter, I’d come to realize there was yet another one needed.

When I finally wrote “The End”, I was seriously relieved. I wasn’t sure Rachel and Theo would ever let me finish their story!

I know a lot of authors always write this way. Some of my writer friends talk about hearing voices in their heads. For me, though, this was a new experience—alternately fulfilling and frustrating. I have to admit that I am really pleased with the result. I hope readers will be, too.

~ ~ ~

This post is part of my Gazillionaire and Virgin blog tour, running from February 1st to 15th. Leave me a comment on this post, including your email address, and I’ll enter you to win a $50 bookstore gift certificate (first prize) or a print copy of the new book (second prize). Visit all the stops for more chances to win. You’ll find the full list here: http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2016/01/blog-tour.html

TheGazillionaireAndTheVirgin_400

Trust can’t be bought—it has to be earned.

Blurb:

When Silicon Valley entrepreneur Rachel Zelinsky meets reclusive genius Theo Moore, she finds him strangely compelling. Theo is both arrogant and socially awkward, but he has an aura of power that speaks to Rachel’s carefully-hidden submissive side. Disturbed and aroused, she tries to focus on her original objective—a deal to incorporate his Artificial Intelligence software into her company’s popular virtual world. Rachel’s not a woman who lets pleasure interfere with business, but for some reason, she can’t resist Theo’s geeky appeal.

Theo Moore can’t be bought. His past battles with poverty make him deeply suspicious of the billionaire CEO. Still, with her voluptuous curves and brilliant mind, Rachel embodies his ultimate sexual fantasy. Too bad his knowledge about sex derives from

extensive research and a stash of kinky porn rather than real-world experience.

That doesn’t bother Rachel, however. In his bed—in his arms—in his bonds—she discovers the bliss of total surrender. Rachel may be Theo’s first lover, but Theo is Rachel’s first true Master—and the first man to truly touch her heart. It seems that love may harmonize their differing goals and values, until Rachel’s unwitting violation of Theo’s trust threatens to tear them apart forever.

Excerpt:

It won’t go away. All through the day—every day—need gnaws at my spirit. Whether I’m reading my email, meeting with my board of directors, preparing a presentation, closing a deal to acquire a promising start-up, discussing deployment of the next release with my engineering managers, I can’t shake the sense that something critical is missing. In yoga class, the aching knot just above my solar plexus doesn’t unwind, no matter how deeply I breathe. Driving to work, I have to force myself to pay attention. Otherwise, I drift off into recollections of my time with Theo—what he did, what he said, how I responded.

I miss him, miss him dreadfully, though it’s been only four days since we were last together. We’ve Skyped every night since the weekend, but somehow that only makes the hunger worse. When I see him there on my screen, grainy and over-exposed, all I want is to touch him—to brush the unruly hair off his forehead, to stroke his cheek, to trace the line of his plump, sensitive lips with my thumb. To offer up my own mouth for him to claim it, tear off my blouse and press my tits against his solid chest, sink to my knees and beg him to take me.

I’d be more than willing to strip and perform for him, to act out whatever lewd actions he ordered, but he refuses to become involved in any sort of phone or cyber-sex. “Everyone’s listening in,” he asserts. “The government. The neighbors. What you and I do should be private.” So we chat about safe topics—our work, what we’ve been reading, where we should go for dinner next weekend. All the while, lust burns in those bright eyes of his. I know what he’s thinking. I’m thinking the same thing.

I’m not expecting him to call Thursday afternoon. The trill of my phone interrupts me as I’m giving Diane instructions for tomorrow. Still, the sound of his voice kindles a warm joy in the pit of my stomach as well as a wetness between my legs.

“Hello. Rachel?”

“Hi, Theo. What’s up?”

“I want you to come early tomorrow. Around noon.”

“I—um—I really can’t. I’ve got an all-day meeting up in San Francisco, some investors from India.”

“Cancel it.”

“What? I can’t do that. These guys have come half-way around the world to talk to me about a franchise deal. Think of the potential profit! More than a billion people, a soaring GDP, and Internet growth that’s doubling every year…”

It’s the wrong thing to say. I realize this the moment the statement’s out of my mouth.

“So you care more about money than about me.” Not a whining complaint, but a dry statement of the facts, at least as Theo sees them.

“No, of course not, but I can’t put my personal life above my business…”

“You should.” I can picture his face, the stubborn set of his jaw as he retreats, distancing himself from me. “But never mind. Of course you’re too busy. I should have expected that.”

“Wait! Wait, don’t hang up, Theo.” I struggle to keep him engaged. “What’s so important about tomorrow noon?”

“I want you to meet my sister. Ellen. She’s free for lunch tomorrow.”

“Can’t we do it Saturday?”

“She’s flying to Jamaica for a two week vacation with her partner Saturday morning.”

“What about when she gets back?”

“She doesn’t want to leave without talking to you. She says she’s worried about me, worried about our relationship. She’s afraid you’ll hurt me, break my heart.”

I’d never hurt you, I almost say, then understand I’m doing so at that very moment. And it feels horrible, like a knife twisting in my gut.

—————–

Links (Print coming soon!)

Amazon US

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01B76B95K/

Amazon UK

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01B76B95K/

Barnes & Noble

All Romance

Kobo

Goodreads

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About Lisabet

LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website, along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance, she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

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Odds and Ends: Cleaning Out My Drawers or Dances with Dildos

I’m not the tidiest person on the planet.

I admit it freely. But once in a while something will happen that makes me “see” my mess, and then I’ll go crazy on it like a Heart song. I don’t think I’m the only one who doesn’t notice fingerprints on the walls and coffee drips down the cabinets on a daily basis. When I eventually do, though, I’m mortified I’ve been oblivious, wallowing in shit for god knows how long, and I go on a scrubbing jag.

Well, my summer clothes are competing with my winter for dresser space and my underwear drawer was so full, it spilled unmentionables down the back insides of the dresser. My hubs had to get a grabby claw thing and pull them out so I could close my drawers again.

Clearly, I’ve been shit wallowing.

So, today I cleaned out my undies drawer. We’ll say nothing of the dishwasher I didn’t finish emptying or the rug that is in dire need of vacuuming or…well, basically any other space in my house. I moved slutty special occasion garments back to their spot in the closet and ditched thongs (condolences to my hubs and congratulations to my ass–I can’t believe I spent the 90’s in those fucking things).

And I found an artifact I’d completely forgotten about.

Enter the crystal dildo:

I shit you not.

I shit you not.

This beauty was a freebie I received for purchasing porn DVDs (and various other…stuff). In fact, I remember making sure I put enough sex accouterments in my cyber cart to ensure I got the glass dildo-to-end-all-dildos.

It’s lovely if not especially titillating. It could pass as a mushroom just as well as a phallus. I suppose the hearts are more than mere decorations as they’re raised for…someone’s pleasure. Shrug. It’s got a solid base so it can stand at attention unassisted or be easily retrieved from tight spaces. It even came in a red velour bag for classy storage (or gift wrap?).

I’ve never done more than hold this delicate masturbatory device up to the light and admire it.

Don’t get me wrong (as if you would)–I thoroughly enjoy my sextras. Just moments ago I sighed in fond memory as I stuck my crotchless panties right back into heavy rotation.

But, honestly, the glass dildo doesn’t make me want to abuse myself (or others). It’s like a stunning work of art.

That doesn’t vibrate.

It belongs in a china cabinet, not a vagina cabinet (sorry, I had to).

So that’s where I put it:

20151015_135012Right next to the shot glasses my Swedish buddy gave us for a wedding present, standing sentinel before the ugly Irish marriage blessing plate, and flouting the fancy-shmancy toasting flutes we were gifted on our special day.

Hey, why not a crystal dildo to celebrate the sacred covenant of marriage? Seems like the luckiest keepsake there (besides the shot glasses, of course).

Yup. I’m totally leaving it. Twenty bucks says no one notices and I eventually smash it reaching for a martini glass.

Okay. I'll tuck it behind this big soup tureen thingy that gets just as much action in case my MIL comes over.

Okay. I’ll tuck it behind this ridiculous soup tureen that gets just as much action. You know, in case my MIL visits.

-Kimber


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