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Guest Post: Maria Duendí (Under the Mistletoe–Hush)

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I hate New York City. I have lived here for nearly eight years and I have never gotten into the cutesy “love/hate” stage most people do after a while. I hate it. I hate the smell (in the words of Han Solo, “What an incredible smell you’ve discovered!” Every day. Many times a day). I hate the lines of people that could rival Soviet Russia’s (sometimes I stand in a line just so I don’t possibly miss something.). I went to a Wegman’s in Pennsylvania, near Penn State, and I forgot to get something before I got in line. “Take your time, honey,” the cashier said. Take. Your. Time.

What I especially hate about New York, however, is the noise. Right now, there is construction being done on a new luxury building on our block (thanks, gentrification!), and we are being assailed with beeps, grinding, knocking, yelling. At night, the cement mixer sounds like it’s fucking. More power to you, man

 

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One evening, my husband and I came home close to midnight. I stepped out of the car, and I felt the ambient noise vibrate through my body. There was a whooshing sound—-the sound of cars getting off and on the FDR drive. There was a general growl from the electricity running in so many homes. Panic hit me at the back of my throat. “It’s never going to stop, is it?” I asked my husband. Day and night, the machine ground on.

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My husband is a city boy, so of course he told me I was exaggerating. “Everywhere is like this,” he said. But I remembered sleeping out in the desert when I was 20 years old, nothing but clear, dark, sapphire sky, the sound of the wind brushing the trees like a thin film over it. Even in a more populated area like State College, most people’s concerns are not about how kinky the construction equipment gets. There are escapes out there—-soothing oases to clear your head, to change your mind.

“Hush” stemmed from my fear of noise going on in perpetuity—-the grinding, growling, crackling noise of the city amplified by a mysterious force. The residents of the city in the story have no escape—-they’ve been hemmed into the city and they have a curfew. The only conduit to escape is a boy who really, really likes a girl, and we can’t (and wouldn’t!) blame the girl for accepting his invitation.

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 “Where are we going?” I asked, when it was quiet enough for him to hear my words. I added, “Do you know?”

He turned to me, shocked and amused, as if he had been alone and he had only been driving with his beer and my thighs holding it. “Yeah,” he said. “I know a place.” It was the first time I had heard his voice—deep and gravelly.

“Why aren’t you already there, then?”

A foolish grin came across his face. “Uh, travel ban?”

I laughed. “You broke that without thinking. How did you—”

“You wanted to go, right? Away from the Noise?”

I breathed in. The Noise lingered, but I could feel relief from it through the cold window. The man opened the window and there was an admirable silence. I breathed it in and out and my tongue was no longer unhinged. I let out a big whoop—a blade of sound piercing a soap bubble. The man chuckled to himself—at the twinkling of quiet stars, at me.

We stopped just a few blocks down from a stoplight—quiet blocks with shabbily genteel shrubs in front, a porch swing here or there. We approached the most run down of them. The wood of the porch had not been repainted in a long time—patches of brown and wincing tan peeked through the gray. There was a porch that was low to the ground and a balustrade wrapped around it.

The man reached over me to open my door to the car. I inhaled his clean scent, his body hovering me warm compared to the cold outside.

“Why me?” I asked, in his shadow.

He opened the door and removed the bottle from between my thighs, his eyes suddenly looking into mine. “Because you said yes.”

 

About Maria Duendi:

Maria Duendi resides in the New York City. She enjoys an almost obscene obsession with perfume and an addiction to Star Trek: Deep Space 9. This is her first publication.

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Guest Post: Ashe Barker and her new book

Hello lovely readers. I’m so sorry I haven’t been posting–I’ve been editing all the amazing stories and poems you’ll read in Under the Mistletoe. Today I’m thrilled to have Ashe Barker, a fellow Totally Bound author and contributor of a sizzling hot story in Under the Mistletoe, guest posting about her new release, Resurrection.

 

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Hello, and thank you so much for inviting me over to talk a little bit about my latest paranormal/time travel erotic romance, Resurrection.

I have always loved time travel romances, and in particular I’m intrigued by the stories where a character comes forward in time. As a writer it’s a dream to imagine all the wondrous and terrifying things they would encounter and to weave those into some sexy and occasionally hilarious scenes. Resurrection has a lot of that. Imagine for example a fifteenth century noblewoman let loose in a twenty first century shopping mall. Or her first encounter with a fast car. Or modern plumbing. Throw in a sexy vampire Dom and my joy is complete.

I am often asked about the inspiration which sparks an idea for a story. No spoilers here, but readers will be aware of the amazing event which took place in the current century and which stripped away five hundred years of accepted wisdom about one of our most infamous historical characters. Richard III was vilified by the Tudors, most ably abetted by one William Shakespeare. In Resurrection Richard is a relatively minor character but still manages to hold his own as a towering figure who influences much of what happens, and makes an amazing reappearance at the end of the story.

Resurrection is both contemporary and historical, paranormal and an erotic romance with the BDSM themes I love to write. I hope readers enjoy this mix of genres as much as I enjoyed writing it.

 

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The past is only a heartbeat away

Right from the start she knew it wasn’t about love.

As the youngest daughter of a wealthy family in medieval England, Lady Jane of Acton has been betrothed to Gerard Twyfford, the son of the Earl of Roseworth, since she was a baby. A dynastic marriage such as theirs is about power and property, not love but even so Jane desperately yearns for her husband’s approval. But Gerard’s rare visits to her bed are for the sole purpose of producing an heir, and she’s even failed at that. How can Jane win Gerard over when she cannot even be the wife he needs her to be?

Would one last chance be enough? Could he make things right, even now?

Ged Twyfford doesn’t know what he’s missing in life. A powerful vampire, he’s lived for close to six hundred years and seen a lot during his time but his past still haunts him. On a whim, he purchases Roseworth castle, the keep he used to rule as lord. Mostly in ruins now, Roseworth is a shell of what it was when he was still a mortal but Ged is determined to make it his home again. Maybe this is what he’s been missing, maybe he needs a place to belong at last.

When a woman emerges from the lake beside his castle, looking and sounding a lot like the wife he lost over five centuries ago, Ged assumes she’s a witch out to dupe him. But what if she is who she claims to be? Ged finally realizes just what he had, and just how precious to him was the wife he betrayed all those hundreds of years ago.

Do they really have a second chance or is it just too late to start over?

And of course a sensuous and hot excerpt…

 

“So, are you ready to lay yourself across my lap, Jane?”

“Will you hurt me?”

“Of course, though not so much that you won’t be able to stand it.”

“What if I want you to stop?”

“This is a punishment spanking so it’s over when I say it is. If you start to feel overwhelmed and want me to pause for a moment though, you need only ask.”

“And, after…?”

“And after, I shall hold you until you stop crying, and I’m sure that all’s well between us. Then I shall fuck you. You should be aware, Jane, I intend to make a better job of it this time.”

He was pleased to see a delightful flush creep across her cheeks. Time to pinken her buttocks to match.

“Jane?” He patted his lap.

She stepped to the side then leaned across him, lowering herself into position.

“Further forward, if you please. Lift up your bottom for me.”

Jane obliged him, pushing herself up onto her toes to present her beautiful heart-shaped arse. Ged admired the pretty curves, leaning to his right to catch a peek at her pussy lips just visible between her thighs. He contemplated asking her to spread her legs to afford him a better view, but decided against it. He had plenty of time and would explore her sweet little cunt soon enough. For now he opted to concentrate on the spanking. It was no hardship, he couldn’t recall an occasion when he had ever anticipated administering a punishment with quite so much relish.

Jane jerked hard when he laid his palm on her upturned buttock. He caressed her skin, felt the muscles tighten beneath his hand as she clenched in anticipation. He circled her soft cheeks with his palm, first one, then the other, saying nothing. He continued to caress her until she softened, her body relaxing, ready for him.

The first slap was soft, but still she gasped. He stroked the sensation away, then dropped another spank onto her sensitive behind, harder this time. She let out another soft sigh, but didn’t shift her position. He continued to slap her soft cheeks, peppering her behind with spanks which became harder, sharper, more intense. Soon she was wriggling on his lap, rubbing hard against his erection. She could have no doubt of his arousal, and he was acutely aware of hers.

As he ramped up the punishment her pussy lips glistened, then moisture started to trickle. She dampened his jeans, though he would swear she was unaware of her physical response. Her head though, that was another matter entirely. He rifled her thoughts shamelessly, and knew the moment, even before her body went limp, draped across his thighs in absolute surrender, that he had her. She was his, to do with as he pleased.

 

Buy Links       

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Read Chapter One for free

 

About Ashe Barker

USA Today Bestselling author Ashe Barker writes erotic romance and spanking romance in a variety of genres including contemporary, BDSM, paranormal, historical. ménage, gay romance and time travel. She is a #1 Amazon Bestseller and all her stories feature hot alpha males and sassy submissives, often with a lot to learn. Kink abounds, and there’s enough dirty talk to satisfy the most demanding smut lover. However dark and dirty the setting, love always emerges triumphant, and her stories never fail to deliver a satisfying happy ever after.

 

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Guest Post: The Challenge I Didn’t Expect by Annabeth Leong

Annabeth Leong and I have shared pages, but we’ve only just become friends. Annabeth came up with the brilliant idea that we exchange guest posts–I share my thoughts and  feelings about being a first time editor and share my current submissions call, and Annabeth write a post about her anthology and her evolution as an editor. After reading her post, I’m so thrilled to have Annabeth guest posting here today.

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Delilah, thanks so much for hosting me here!

At the start of this year, to be honest, I was feeling burned out. After eight years of writing erotica, I wasn’t sure anymore if I had stories to tell that mattered in the world. So I took a step back, sat down with a notebook, and thought about things I’d done that did seem to matter.

 

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Immediately, the forays I’d taken into editing stood out. The first anthology I edited, MakerSex: Erotic Stories of Hackers, Geeks, and DIY Projects, came out in March, but even though the book wasn’t yet available I already knew how important it felt to have discovered great stories I wanted everyone to read, to have helped the authors polish and improve them, and to have put together a book that was sexy, diverse, and well-written.

 

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I also spent a lot of time in late 2014 and early 2015 copy editing for The New Smut Project. Both of the books that project produced—Between the Shores: Erotica with Consent and Heart, Body, Soul: Erotica with Character—are filled with stories that humbled me, stories I felt honored to have touched in any way, stories that changed how I think about erotic connection to this day.

Next, I thought about how proud I’ve been to have contributed to the Coming Together series of charity anthologies. I’ve been in nine of them, including Among the Stars, Arm in Arm in Arm, and Keeping Warm. I don’t make much as an erotica writer, so it means a lot to me to be able to give to charity this way, when I might not be able to otherwise.

Finally, I thought about this question of stories that matter in the world. The stories I’ve written that I’ve loved best came from my own unique voice. They spoke to experiences I hadn’t read described in quite that way before, and when they resonated with readers, they seemed to do so because they addressed a void, made people feel they weren’t alone in something.

So if I wanted to do a project that I could feel excited about amidst my burnout, it felt like it ought to combine these elements—it should give me a chance to help other writers, it should be for a cause I believed in, and it should speak to an experience in which people too often feel alone.

Some time ago, I realized that I’ve never read a piece of erotica that includes a person who has an STI. If erotica acknowledges that STIs exist at all, it’s only in terms of their prevention. (Whenever I write this, I add that I would love to hear about positive counterexamples. Please feel free to email me!) That was what I learned in school, too—only prevention and warnings. But the truth is that’s not the world. People get STIs all the time, and getting an STI doesn’t forfeit a person’s right to a fun, fulfilling sex life.

I remember being diagnosed with HPV and genital warts—both of which are incredibly common in the U.S.—in my twenties and honestly thinking I could never have sex with anyone again. The shame was overwhelming. I’ve since had lovers who had other STIs, and I’ve seen them in various stages of overcoming shame, too.

 

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I got into erotica wanting to talk about subjects that had always been taboo, wanting to shine a light into places I’d felt shame, and where I thought others might, too. I came up with the idea for Coming Together: Positively Sexy, an anthology of stories including positive portrayals of characters with STIs, in this spirit. My hope is that the book will do good just by existing—that writing for it and reading it will heal shame. Beyond that, its proceeds will benefit the Center for Sexual Pleasure and Health, an organization that has helped to free me from so much of my own sexual shame, and that, among other work, educates people about STIs, including prevention, but also including enjoying sex responsibly after a diagnosis.

And since I put out the call for submissions, I’ve heard very, very often from people who want to read this book, who say they need to read it. I haven’t, however, gotten many story submissions.

I got into this project knowing this book would test my editing skills. I want to choose stories representing a wide variety of people and experiences, and to work with writers to help them realize their vision. I have an image of a book that includes a range from stories of people dealing with disclosing an STI to a new lover to people for whom it’s a quick, no-big-deal conversation before the sexy fun begins. I have experts at the CSPH available to consult with if needed, so I can be sure the book treats STIs in a medically accurate, non-shaming way.

What I didn’t realize was that this book is demanding a different kind of editing skill: convincing and encouraging nervous writers to try their hands at stories that feel risky to them. I have had many conversations with writers who say they don’t know anything about STIs and can’t write about them, only to tell me in the next breath that they’ve had or currently have an STI. I’ve had conversations with writers who say they can’t picture how a story could include mention of an STI and still be sexy. I’ve had conversations with writers who say they are far too worried about the possibility of getting something wrong. I’ve talked to writers who say they mostly submit stories they’ve already written, and they’ve never written a story that includes a character with an STI.

To me, this all speaks to the stigma around STIs, the very stigma that I’m hoping this book can question. I want to make a book that opens up a little space inside a dominant culture that often seems intent on shaming people, a book that offers up a vision that an STI doesn’t have to be the end of a person’s sex life, that it doesn’t have to be a big deal at all. I’m hoping to get some stories from writers who already know that because they’ve lived that experience, and I’m also hoping to get some stories from writers who are learning it through the writing they’re doing now.

I will confess that I’m not the greatest at promotion. I worry that I’m not up for the task ahead of me, and that I can’t edit the book I see a need for because I won’t get enough stories. I do want to say, though, that I am doing my best—that’s all a writer or editor can ever do. If you’re reading this, and you’re interested in writing a story, please give it a try. If you have questions, send me an email (positivelybook at outlook dot com). You can see the full call for submissions here, with all the information.

Thanks so much again to Delilah for hosting me, and thanks so much to you for reading.

Guest Post–An Interview with Tanith Lee

Today I welcome fellow Totally Bound author, Tanith Lee to my blog. Her new book Wish I’d Never Met You looks like such a great coming of age story. I can’t wait to read it.

 

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1–Hi Tanith! Tell us a little about you.

I’ve been writing erotic romance for about nine years, published for six, and I live in Yorkshire with my husband and two cats Dash and Spot. I’ve been published by Totally Bound, Naughty Nights Press and House of Erotica, and there’s nothing I love more than watching a horror film with a Mojito by my side.

2–Tell us about your journey from aspiring writer to published author.

I began my debut novel when I was 27 but was spurred on by the onset of my 30th birthday to get it finished. At the same time I was taking the Writers News course in fiction writing and had been connected to the RNA via my tutor, so I submitted my novel under the NWS. After receiving feedback and reworking it I submitted to several e-publishers and was accepted by Totally Bound, who I’ve been very happy with ever since!

3–Who has influenced you

I’ve been influenced by a number of people as my writing has progressed – Victoria Blisse (who introduced me to Smut By The Sea) and Gina Kincade (who invited me to submit to Naughty Nights Press) have been particularly influential and have broadened my horizons considerably. I also learned how to blog by working with Kallypso Masters on Red Lipstick Diaries. I would also have to give credit to my tutor Valerie Holmes and the Book Doctor Debi Alper who first advised me to re-brand my writing.

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4–Where do you usually write, and what’s your ideal writing space?

I do most of my prep work curled up on the sofa surrounded by cats, which is perfect for me as I can either glance up at the TV or stroke one of them whenever I get stuck. They also like to lie behind me when I’m on the computer in case I need a two-minute snuggle break.

5–Tell us about your current book.

Flick Lindenwood, fresh from college, has returned home to the suburban haven of Green Valley, back to society…and the source of her heartbreak. Four years ago Elodie Hamilton savagely broke her heart, and Flick has no intention of letting her pretty ex get back under her skin. As far as she’s concerned, she and Elodie never happened.

But Elodie has other ideas.

Afraid to come out, Elodie chose to destroy her relationship with Flick rather than let her family know who she was. But now she wants to right the wrong she did—if she can only find the nerve, and if she can convince Flick to see past the pain she caused.

6–What’s your next writing project(s)?

I’m working on a paranormal novella for Totally Bound and planning out a possible entry for a Sex in Space anthology.

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Excerpt

‘You know what I love about you? You always drink your coffee too hot.’

It had been their final year of school when Flick and Elodie had really noticed each other.

Both avoiding gym class—Flick with a wrenched ankle, Elodie with a broken finger—they had sat together behind a hedge on the school grounds, sunlight warming the grass, comparing notes on that hideous essay their literature teacher had set. Flick had glanced across at Elodie and desire had flushed through her, igniting her nerves. She had longed just to reach over and brush that blonde forelock out of Elodie’s blue eyes.

She had known for some months that she had no interest in boys, but had told no one, nor had she planned to.

It had all happened so suddenly. As she’d leaned closer, Elodie’s hand had landed on top of hers, and when Flick had turned to look at her, their faces had been too close to resist. She would have pulled away and apologized, except that Elodie had been kissing her back with such force that she had fallen back on the grass, feeling Elodie’s soft weight roll on top of her.

‘You know what I love about you? You always play your music too loud.’

Elodie had been cute, pixieish, her short blonde hair in a messy cap pushed back from her clear-skinned face. She’d had a way of tilting her head to one side that came over as thoughtful and curious at the same time. And she had been fascinated with psychology, always analyzing what people were thinking, reading their body language.

‘You know what I love about you? You always pick the weirdest meal in a restaurant.’

“Why do you love that about me?” Flick had asked.

Elodie had given her a sweet smile. “Because you do everything like it’s the last day of your life. You take chances, you take risks. You enjoy everything to the max.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“No.” Elodie had looked down into her cappuccino, mouth turning down. “I don’t. My mom would disown me if I did anything she didn’t like.”

You mean like coming out? Flick hadn’t asked the question—she’d known the answer already. Rightly or wrongly, Elodie had been terrified of coming out. Hell, Flick had been nervous about the idea of coming out herself. It was much simpler to play at being friends, friends who read poetry together and practiced their music and hung out, snatching moments under the bleachers and under the bedclothes when no one was around.

Oh, Elodie. So sweet, so adorable, so good with her hands. So able with her fingertips—able to torment every spot, dipping her moist fingers between Flick’s folds until Flick was biting down on her wrist to hold back her cries. So pretty when she came, gasping and moaning as she’d writhed on Flick’s tongue.

So easy to love.

Right up until the end of summer, the day before Flick left for college.

The day that text had broken Flick’s heart.

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Guest Post: Not Your Typical Heroine by Willa Edwards

Hi all! I’m still recuperating from surgery last week. Today Willa Edwards is taking over the blog to talk about a heroine she never expected to write. Stick around to enter her giveaway!

 

I’ll be the first to admit I usually write heroines similar to myself. I have always said I don’t usually feel like a writer but more the first reader of all my stories. And I like to read stories about women I can relate to. I assume most of my readers do as well (if I’m wrong, feel free to correct me).

Now these characters aren’t all exactly the same. They have different likes and dislikes. Different focuses and fantasies. But in the end they are all loyal, caring, and passionate. All the traits I esteem, and hope I have.

So when a heroine stared knocking on my mind who was selfish, out for herself, immoral and somewhat destructive. I thought, I can’t write a story about her. Who would want to read about someone so dreadful? Those are the characteristics that make a villain, not a heroine. And in true McKenna fashion, the more I ignored her the more she demanded to tell her story. (I did say she was selfish!) Until finally I had no choice but to do what she said.

But as I wrote her story, she slowly started to show me her sensitive, vulnerable side, and exactly how she became the person she is. I came to realize through the course of the story that though she may not be the typical heroine, that might make her the character I’ve written who is most in need of love. Because it isn’t just the loyal, passionate heroines that need love or even deserve it. We all do. Even the selfish, out for themselves, demanding heroines. Love has the ability to make us all the best versions of ourselves. Especially them.

McKenna story, Sensual Sabotage, is now available with Siren publishing. Though McKenna might not be your typical heroine, I hope you will all give her a shot to take up a place in your heart, the same way she has for me.

 

McKenna James came to work for Hamilton and Brewer Associates with only one thing on her mind. And it isn’t a long lasting career. She’s after a copy of their plans for a waste-less oil refinery that a rival company will pay her six figures to take. But, when Sawyer and Chris catch her in the act, she learns a lot more about her bosses as they handcuff her to a chair and torture the truth out of her.

When Sawyer Hamilton and Chris Brewer stumble upon their receptionist trying to fleece their newest designs, the dominant in both of them comes raging to the surface. They intend to protect what is theirs. No matter what. But when their interrogation turns sexy, they are both in danger of losing more than just their plans. Luckily they both have experience with bound women who have smart mouths.

Can two nerdy doms tame a thief bent on stealing from them? Or will the harlot take their hearts along with their plans?

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Excerpt

She grabbed her purse from behind her desk and headed down the hall, toward Sawyer’s and Chris’s offices. It didn’t matter which she entered. They both had what she needed. Access to the secure server.

Stepping to the first door, Chris’s office, she tried the handle. Locked. Not a huge surprise but still inconvenient. She pulled her tools from her purse, selecting the tension wrench from the set and pushing it into the lock. Holding the metal in place, she used the pick to release each of the pins. She closed her eyes, allowing her muscle memory to do all the work. She’d been picking locks since she’d run away from home—if that was what you wanted to call it—and needed a warm place to sleep for the night. This paltry lock was nothing compared to what she’d come in contact with over the years.

Not for the first time, she wondered how there could be something valuable in this office. This building was nothing like the usual places she was hired to break into. No marble tiles, expensive leather furniture, or high-end computers filled out the rooms. Instead, the place reminded her of a down-on-his-luck seventies PI she’d seen on TV as a kid. The carpets were old, covered in stains, and a color that could only be described as faded mold.

Not that it really mattered to her. She didn’t care what she stole or why. All she cared about was retrieving what she was hired to find and collecting her payment. Asking questions about her clients or their motivations for employing her services only got her into trouble.

She stirred up enough of that already. She didn’t need more.

Walking across the room, she rounded the desk. Her instructions were clear, as was the bounty requested. And there was only one place to get it.

She knocked the mouse and the monitor came to life, prompting her for a password. While she’d been offered a lot of trust in the last week she’d worked here, they hadn’t gone so far as to give her all the company passwords. She searched the desktop, looking for any sign of what word to guess. Between the intricate computer system in front of her and the owner’s age, she doubted it was password.

A small, neon pink Post-it hung from the edge of the computer. Vet appointment Thursday 1:30. Chris must have a pet. She looked over at the picture on his desk of a big yellow lab eagerly licking the face of a little girl with big, dark brown eyes the same shade as Chris’s. Her small, chubby arms gripped around the dog’s neck.

McKenna stared at the scene, almost with longing. She could almost hear the little girl’s laughter as she played with the sweet, energetic canine. The Bay Park Bridge filled up the back of the frame. The park was a popular spot to have birthday parties and family events. The perfect place for a dog and little girl to have the best day of their lives.

It was a reality McKenna had never known. A happy, loving family. Picnics filled with lemonade and laughter. Her childhood parties were comprised of swears and thrown beer bottles, if she got a party at all.

Not that she cared about any of that stuff. She’d grown up just fine without it. Now she took care of herself. It had all worked out.

The picture frame was covered with dog bones and, at the bottom, engraved with the word Hugo. Chris loved that dog, probably more than any human. A lightbulb flashed in her mind. He did love that dog. So much that he probably used his dog’s name as a password. It was worth a shot.

She leaned over the keyboard, hunting out each letter. Too short for any logical password, she added the year at the end. Holding her breath, she hit enter and waited for the rejection. The screen flashed for a second then dissolved to the desktop. Another picture of the same dog, this time rolling on his back, looked back at her from the backdrop on the screen.

Wow! That was easy. Too easy. Clearly Chris and Sawyer had no idea how much they needed a good security system. Or how many people wanted what they had. Lucky for her. This might be the easiest job she’d been offered in a while.

 

Buy it here

 

Leave a comment to win a book off Willa’s backlist! I’ll pass on the email address of the winner once she selects them.

Speechless by Tamsin Flowers

I’m so honored to host Tamsin Flowers today!  Tamsin is a dear friend and one of the most talented erotica authors out there. If you’re not familiar with her work, you should be! I had the privilege of beta-reading her BDSM-themed serial Alchemy XII. We have also shared paged in several anthologies, including Summer Loving. When I asked her if she wanted to guest post while I was in the hospital, I was so excited when she offered me a previously unpublished story!!

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Speechless

Tamsin Flowers

 

His mother had christened him Bartholomew, his friends called him Barty, but Leonard had called him Batman from the very first day they met. And that was so many years ago now that neither of them could remember why. It might have started as ‘Bart, man’, but now it was Batman and it didn’t really matter why. That’s just how it was.

Barty lay in bed, pretending he was still asleep. He could sense Leonard fidgeting next to him and then he felt mattress shift as Leonard got out of bed. Bare feet on the wooden floor boards, crossing towards the window.

“Hey, would you look at that? The Petersens have got a new car.”

Barty pulled the covers up to shield his ear.

“I don’t know what they were thinking, with that color. It’s yellow, Batman, bright yellow. What were they thinking? It’s really not a good color when you need to resell a car. Is it? Would you ever by a yellow car? Geez, I don’t think that guy’s too bright. A yellow car.”

Even with his eyes shut Barty could see Leonard shaking his head.

“But it’s a nice day. Haven’t seen the sun like that all week. We should go out somewhere, maybe. Do something. But you know what I’d like first, Batman? I’d like you to screw me six ways to Sunday and then all the way back again. You know, fuck me proper, just how I like it. Just how you like it. What d’you say, Batman? Are you awake? Are you even awake yet?”

Barty raised a hand from beneath the quilt in quiet surrender.

“Okay, okay. I know it—you need coffee. A nice big coffee to get your motor running. Say, what did you think of those new beans I got? The first cup, I thought was good…”

Barty’s cock hardened under the covers. He didn’t need coffee to fuck Leonard. But he sure as hell would like one.

“…but the second tasted a little bitter to me. What did you think? Did you even have two cups?”

“Coffee,” said Barty.

“Coffee, right, I’ll go make some. Coming right up, coming right up.”

Barty could still hear Leonard talking in the kitchen even if he couldn’t make out what he was saying. Leonard came back with a tray holding two mugs.

“Here we go, coffee for the sleepy head. Did you just go back to sleep, Batman? Are you awake now?”

Barty sat up in bed with a groan. He reached across and opened the drawer of his bedside cabinet.

“What are you after, Batman? I’ll get it. Here, let me.”

Leonard came round to Barty’s side of the bed and put one of the mugs of coffee down on the cabinet.

“What have you got there?” he said, as Barty found what he wanted and pulled it out of the drawer.

He held up a ball gag.

Leonard’s eyebrows shot up.

“No, no, no. Not that, please, not the gag. Not today, Barty.” He only ever used ‘Barty’ when he was afraid. “Come on, it’s a nice day. We could have a nice fuck. You don’t need to gag me. I promise I’ll be quiet. Really. I will. Just don’t use the gag, hey?”

Leonard wasn’t scared of what Barty was going to do to him. He was just terrified at the prospect of not being able to articulate every single fucking thought that went through his mind.

“Leonard,” said Barty.

It was all he had to say. Leonard submitted himself to Barty’s possession and two minutes later he was spread-eagled on the bed, cuffed at the wrists, with the ball gag snugly in his mouth. Barty stood at the end of the bed looking down at him. Leonard was naked but Barty still wore his pajama pants and his cock tented out against the thin, striped cotton. He slipped his hand under the waistband and stroked himself, watching as Leonard’s eyes widened.

“You’re quiet,” said Barty.

Leonard grunted at the back of his throat and frowned. Barty laughed and discarded his trousers. He knelt on the bed, between Leonard’s legs. Leonard’s cock danced in front of him, but Barty didn’t reach out for it.

“Ah,” he said slowly. “There’s something I wanted to say and now I’ve got the chance.”

But he stopped talking and picked up a tube of lube from the cabinet. He tenderly spread Leonard’s legs and bent them up at the knee, and then applied a generous slick of lube to his ass crack. Barty’s hands were strong and sensitive from years as a sculptor—he worked and molded Leonard’s ass cheeks until the other man moaned with pleasure behind the gag. One finger, then two, prepared the way for him and then he pushed his dick hard into Leonard’s sweet, tight little ass. And no matter how many times he did it, it always felt the same. Always felt so good, like coming home. He pulled back and then rammed it home again. Leonard’s hips jumped and he pulled at the cuffs that secured him to the bed frame.

Barty glanced down at Leonard’s cock, dripping pre-cum across his stomach as it bucked which each one of Barty’s thrusts. That he loved. Watching Leonard come, watching his white spunk spurting across his soft belly.

But it would have to wait. He was on a mission today.

“Yeah, that thing,” he said, stopping with his cock deep inside Leonard.

Leonard moaned and shook his head. He hated being talked at when he couldn’t reply. Barty stroked his leg in consolation.

“Len?”

Leonard shook his head frantically.

“We’ve been together quite a time. It’s been a few years.” He paused and looked up at the ceiling, then over at the window. He looked back down at Leonard. “Would you marry me?”

In front of him on the bed, there was an explosion of emotion. Leonard couldn’t speak so he did everything but. He spluttered out bubbles at the edge of the ball gag, as muffled squeals died in the back of his throat. His arms thrashed against their restraints and his legs flapped about like fish out of water.

“Huh? You wanna say something?” said Barty. He resumed fucking him, slowly, easily, gliding in and out. “It can wait. Can’t you see I’m kind of busy.”

But he eventually took pity on Leonard and grabbed his cock. He worked his hand up and down it in the same rhythm, speeding up as his fucking gained pace. Harder and faster until he came with gruff moan, and seconds later Leonard came in his hand, choking against the gag and still just as frenzied.

Barty slumped forward against him, not caring that Leonard’s cum smeared his chest and gut.

“You okay, Len?” he said.

Leonard snarled as far as he was able. Barty pulled out of him and undid the gag. Leonard sat up, choking and coughing. His mouth was working but no words came out.

“Len?” said Barty.

One word.

“Speechless,” spluttered Len. His mouth moved some more but there were no other words.

So Barty fucked him six ways to Sunday, until finally Leonard found his voice again. But by that time they’d both forgotten the question.

“Yellow,” muttered Leonard. “Such a shit color for a car.”

 

Want more of Tamsin’s M/M stories? Check out Doing it for the Coach

doingitforthecoach_800Private Jimmy Jackson wants to make it onto the squad boxing team—and when he meets Coach Perry, he realises that’s not all he wants…

Private Jimmy Jackson joined the army for one reason—for the chance it would give him to box on the All Army Team and turn professional. But as a gay soldier, he sometimes needs to use his fists for other reasons, so when he arrives at his new unit at Fort Sandbridge, his main aim is to keep his head down, work hard and impress the coach. What he hadn’t bargained for was the sheer animal attraction that springs up between himself and Coach Virgil Perry the moment they meet. All Jimmy can think of is taking their momentary locker-room encounter further, and his fantasies are fuelled by dreams of what they could get up to alone together.

Luckily, Jimmy impresses Coach Perry enough with his boxing to be included in the training squad and, with his roommate and sparring partner, Moreno, he begins to prepare for the All Army Championships. A steamy off-camp incident with Coach Perry raises the stakes even higher. Perry makes it clear that if Jimmy wins his championship, he’ll make it onto the All Army Team with the opportunity of some one-on-one training. If he loses, he’ll be off the squad and his dreams of Coach Perry will be shattered.

The competition arrives and just three rounds stand between Jimmy and his dreams…

 

 

I’m being interviewed by Lynn Townsend!

My Capturing the Moment virtual book tour has landed at Lynn Townsend’s blog. Lynn was one of my beta readers for the book. In the interview we talk about everything from who inspired me, to Literotica, acceptance letters, and more.

literotica

I’m Delilah. I spent the first 31 years of my life in the chilly Northeast before my partner’s work took us to Singapore six years ago. Although I grew up telling and imagining stories, writing them was at best a part-time hobby. I was first introduced to erotica when my ex-boyfriend showed me Literotica.com. I was a senior in college with a thesis due, so obviously the best use of my time was to start writing erotica and erotic fan fiction. Thanks to Literotica, I found my first writing community, and physical friends when I made the move to NYC for grad school.

I’ve heard a lot of about Literotica — oddly enough, I myself have never explored its archives, but several of the writers I know got their start there, or in the various fanfic universes, like AO3… Any interesting stories from that world you particularly remember? 

Lit is such a great resource for new writers. There’s so much support and love for new writers (and yes, there are trolls sometimes, but that’s the internet). I haven’t been involved in the website in over five years, but I just re-joined under Delilah_Night if anyone wants to connect there. A lot of my friends have moved on.

I wouldn’t have had a social life in NYC if it weren’t for Literorica. There was a Boston vs NYC thread, and through that I met most of my friends in NYC. We had “lit-togethers” where we’d meet up for dinner and hang out.

If you  mean actual stories, I couldn’t find it on lit anymore, but a writer I knew on the site wrote the best crossover fanfic “Harry Potter and the Eagle of Truthiness” which imagines that Steven Colbert (in his Colbert Report persona) was the Defense against the Dark Arts Teacher at Hogwart. HILARIOUS

Read the rest here and get to know me a little better.

BTW if you want to read Harry Potter and the Eagle of Truthiness, I found it! Click here to read Christine Morgan’s story.