Friday, 30 April 2010


"When you die, your life... flashes, and you disintegrate, radiating energy. When a thing turns into its opposite, when love becomes hate, there are always sparks. But when life turns into death, it's explosive. There are streaks of light, magical, and electrifying. Everyone senses something, some energy, some spirit, some sort of illumination, But I see it. I've seen bodies shining like stars. Some say there's no soul, no afterlife, that life and death is the straightest line on the compass, and nothing more. I say believe what you want, because no matter what you do, cut everything up, burn it all down, you're in the path of something beyond your control."

Believe what you want being the key. Live and let live, don't always argue because that just makes the point you think your way is right. What I write are my answers, and no one has said anything for a while, they're not yours so just read them.

Someone is only right to society when they are doing things in society's way and any "mistake" can not be inexcused. One is judged when one doesn't fit and sometimes one can NOT fit. Not even allowed to look at objects anymore.

This is a world full of bullies.

What am I existing in? We have to sometimes make up our own worlds, so that keeps the rest at a distance.

We really have evolved. (!)

Religion is no answer, movies are just magic, life is hard and there is nothing keeping anyone on here, instead one should have a need simply to be here. Say what you want but political correctness and over the top enthusiasm again done in society's way is the bullshit that stops expression.

Thursday, 29 April 2010

Once again I was so glad to read a story where the character is as mature as Buck

in Sweet Caroline. He's broadminded and just plain cool, he's the perfect romance hero combined with actually the opposite of what romance-Fabio- heroes conjure up. Welcome to mature Erotica, the one that that speaks to the mind and makes every other organ tingle and aroused more because of it. I could make a list of heroes that are like Buck, one of them is Adam from Adored, quite a few Amarinda Jones heroes, Lissa Matthews ones, Brody Kincaid from Stripped Bare by Lena Matthews, Justin from Love Honour and Obey by Cynthia Rayne and quite a few Melinda Barron ones.

Gosh, I can't believe how women waste their time on men who are style and no substance. And how they settle and make excuses for someone just because they happen to find them good looking. It's one of the most stupid things in the world and I have no patience for it.

Okay, some pictures and then I'm calling it a day. There's quite a few things that affect me but I really give up on society and the mainstream and the so called rebels. I think sometimes people get this inner happiness that has nothing to do with any of the above.

Enjoy the pictures and don't forget movie weekend! But if you're not particpating, I hope you have a GREAT one. Thanks and goodnight.

I'm fucking appalled.

Tuesday, 27 April 2010

From the slutty to the wholesome, who knows what's underneath that milky pure exterior xx

Picture 2, she's wearing men's underwear.

Picture 4, I want those tassles, HOT and they'd not cover as much as hers on me.

See, I read this book that was mature and inspiring

So I'm not too bothered about dumb polls on MSN about men you shouldn't have a crush on but do. Oh pray tell me, WHY I shouldn't have a crush on someone you don't deem fit enough! I know it's just entertainment, a bit of fun, and I really do not want to be and am not one of those people who's like bah bah WHITE sheep, you know really stampeding with the political correctness thing ( I love their dedication though) but a poll on men women like would have sufficed without the limitations and the rules. Because otherwise it's just a some big hypocritical mess up of things in a world where society plays too big a part. The common factor, the blend in factor, the rules, the boxes, the categories, the excuses for human nature and that's just the way it is which equals lack of evolving.. and it's just mockery of people. Speaking of mockery, aren't radio DJ's mean?! There's not one I have heard who doesn't mock someone's looks, mostly pop stars. It's different when you have a slight go at Lady Gaga's face crown of thorns, God love that crazy bitch, but stuff like crowd gets dazzled by his bald head said by DJ in a really mean voice gosh what a condom.

Ok back to mature, so the book I was reading is Sweet Caroline by Lissa Matthews. I am so exhausted today other wise I'd do a review right now of that book. But it was everything I dreamed off and more. Why? I'll go more in detail, but for now, “Because, if it’s something you want from me, I should at least be willing to consider it. It’s what lovers do.” And this is just one line from a story about need, fullfillment and love.

Sunday, 25 April 2010

So I actually feel disgusted.

I'm not sure how clear I am on this but I'm not sure if I like BDSM. Why did I like it to begin with?

I just watched The Piano Teacher for the 2nd time, first time was way back when, I didn't know much about BDSM and I know the movie is actually more about her character's masochism rather than BDSM but I'm thinking that only goes a little further than the BDSM books I have read. Not her inner turmoil because truly BDSM is about trust and if you have that you can't hurt so much like the character in The Piano Teacher, but the actions to an extent.

I'm not sure if Huppert's character in the movie actually takes a shit whilst watching this couple have sex. It's degrading and whilst I like deprived, I'm not sure if degrading is for me so much. I'm not going to attack someone who finds different things erotic to me but I'm just wondering about my BDSM interest. I like obsession between two people, when you HAVE to taste that person but I'm not so sure about spanking or gagging. I once blogged about having an interest in someone pushing my limits or walking all over me, I don't know if I want that anymore. So the erotica I have written seems a bit foreign where as once it was ME. The problem is I think I've gone soft inside, I mean I still have my edges but at the moment making love and tasting, sucking and licking each part of each other's body seems better than anything else. I've had crushes before but I think something else has happened to me. No bond, but whatever it is, I haven't felt like this pre discovery of BDSM and now I am more mature and know more, I feel the same as I felt for Huppert's character years ago, which is bad for her angst and pain, but if someone told me beat me, or beat someone else, gosh I'd react a little like that young man in the movie. Inside I'd definitely feel like he says.

You must obey, you must obey, you must obey, all work and no play..

Saturday, 24 April 2010

More Slowburn.

To follow after links to previous Slowburn. The thing about facebook is that it was all together, oh well. You have to work hard!

Even the click of her door key added to the heavyness of Mel's mind. She was going to cry big time today and even tomorrow. Poor Michael. Every time she felt him turn towards her, she wanted to bury her face against his jumper and cry into his chest. The problem is she wouldn't be able to stop. He was her someone to lean on in more ways than one, she didn't expect such fierce protection from him and loyalty but then she knew how much they matched one another, it wasn't just the sex, it was the afterwards, the inbetween, the before, even the before, she sensed his love for her. She couldn't believe it.

He closed the door as she turned on the lights in her house. There was something so definite about electric lights, she started to cry. "Mel" She felt him whisper. Mike wrapped his arms around her. When she could control the tremble of her lips, she told him through her tears, how she'd never get far in life, how it was be a constant struggle, how she faced something at every turn and worse it was from everyone but him. She looked up at his face. His eyes consoled her. When she met him, she was comfortable with was because of his eyes. There was something there that broke that wall in her around him. She didn't feel trapped or short of air or panicked, she felt herself, that person who was inside of her.

"Do you want me to make you a drink?"

She nodded against him.

He took her hand and led her to the kitchen. The kitchen was full of him, since their first fuck, oh come on Michael allow me to say it once she thought, she felt his presence everywhere in that room, regardless of where he was. He had probably fucked her on every piece of furniture, but the table was his favourite for eating her pussy out.

She stood next to him as he prepared her drink. Her mother would have told her to sit down, not Mike. Mike would touch her gently as he was doing now, she wasn't an invalid, she was Mel but Mel exhausted from life and he knew that and..she kissed his shoulder after he touched hers. Before, she felt so riled inside that she had to push him away, now she stood inbetween him and the whistling kettle and wrapped her arms around his waist. He was strong and sturdy to hold onto, she didn't care about big or small, she just liked holding onto him.

"I love you" He said looking into her eyes.

I love you too" She hugged him. "I'm sorry about before."

"Don't apologise." He stroked her cheek.

She started to cry in front of him again.

"Mel" he kissed her face. He placed small kissed all over her cheeks and chin and forehead, eyes and lips.

"Do you know anywhere we could just disappear forever?" She whispered.

"Hmm.." She saw him think, "the thing is we can't, baby. I wish there was. I wish I could find some remote island and take you there but, that's gonna take time."

"Remote island sounds good."


She nodded and cried.

"Any leads?"

She shook her head.

"I have one. There's a small island near Africa. It's surrounded by clear sea, the sun is hot on your skin but I'll make sure you keep it protected at all times and, I'd go out to get our lunch and dinner every day, then we'd cosy up by the fire and then..I'd posses you each day. There'd be no mornings, baby. You'd be in my arms and so I couldn't get us breakfast." Michael smiled at her like an angel, not some winged creature with clear blue eyes, but someone who had been sent down to her.

"Have I told you I love you."

He shook his head sideways and made a face. She leaned into him, smiling into his warmth. "Well" She spoke to his heart, "I love you. I love you so much."

He kissed her lips. When he pulled away, she knew, she knew why he pulled away. The need and what happened before. "Just holding." She said to him.

"I'm as hard as a rock baby, but I'll hold you with everything I have. You don't ever have to worry that I can't control myself around you."

"Your control.."He kissed her lips. "I's becoming somewhat of a legend." He said. She let out a small deep laugh.

"I love you." He turned her around and prepared her drink again.

For a while, Mel sat on his lap. It just sort of happened. She needed him. They were at the table and she drank her tea. He held onto her. "Don't you want a drink yourself?" She asked him.

He took a sip out of her mug.

"Hey!" Though she definitely didn't feel light inside, she did feel better.

"If you have a problem Mel, you can drink it out of my mouth."

"Mel now? What happened to the baby baby baby?"

He slapped her butt. "That's what happened." He raised an eyebrow at her. She felt herself smile like a child.

Then it bubbled up inside her again.

"Oh baby. He whispered holding her tighter now she started to cry yet again. He held her as she wept against his chest. "I feel like such a kid." She snorted in between in tears.

"You're just feeling vulenerable. Kids don't have your intelligence."

"Oh Michael " She whispered unashamedly and unbashfully.

"I'm not trying to get you in bed in that way, but I think you do need to go to bed. Do you want me to hold you there, or shall I sleep here."

"On the couch?" She stopped crying, looking up at him.


"No, no of course not. You're not sleeping on the couch. Like you say you can control yourself and if you can't well, just masturbate or something." This was typical of their frank conversations. "But you're not sleeping on that uncomfortable couch."

"I'm sure its okay."

"Yeah, like I'm going to let you sleep there whilst I have a cosy bed."

She hugged him. "You're stuck with me, baby."

Then he picked her up. She loved it when he did that. Somehow it worked, and he'd carry her to her bedroom.

He'd asked her if he could get her night clothes out of her bag. She told him she had a tracksuit, hardly sexy but would serve for tonight in the bathroom. When he came back, she saw his eyes roam over her naked form. She couldn't help it. With Michael, it felt right.

"I'm not teasing you."

He bent down and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.

He watched her face. "I know" He said.

When he held her as he lay in his bottoms, he told her that to think of herself only. As she felt exhaustion and the comfort of his arms and body take her off to sleep, she realised somewhere that's what she would have to do.

Is there a technical nerd out there? Btw I love nerds and geeks and in a lusty way too

So if you've said hey! to this, you just turned me on with your powers of Nerd. Sorry if you're female and not that way inclined towards me- good job we don't live near, eh. (Or do we).

ANYWAY point is folks, I want to upload a video using my webcam. My webcam belongs to a piece of CRAP laptop which was not only not installed with any fans so had to pay extra for that later on but breaks down every single year since I bought it. It's shit. So I could do this on facebook but you know what happened there. Which website can I upload a video on that doesn't have terms and conditions against "obscene" material? Even this blog has that term and condish and if I break it, bye bye blog like bye bye facebook. I don't know how to access my webcam without going through a website. If I did, I would have done it that way. I'm tempted to open a myspace account or do twitter (which I'm already on) and post the photos and then save them to my computer and delete them..but just wondering if there is another way.

I want do a striptease and post a couple more booby pictures. Maybe one that goes further once I get into it.

Someone's gonna report me aren't they! I hate snitches.

Anyway, to those who don't and are pondering my quest of ion,(what?) THANK YOU in advance.

Friday, 23 April 2010

More on Desire.

A quick summary on the story so far, Julie is a librarian, she tells her colleague and friend that she wants to enter the BDSM scene. She's interested in the submissive and dominant side. This is something she's been thinking about for a while. Julie herself would say she's a loner, always left of everyone else is her description, theirs would be weird.

The morning passed by as usual, Bryan the security guard came in at 10 as per usual to chat up her friend Andie. Julie normally gave him a small friendly smile though for some reason he had decided to ignore her long ago. She came from manners and figured there should be no bad feeling from her part. Andie talked and talked afterwards telling her that she had a long term boyfriend, whom Julie knew of, and although Bryan was cute, she shouldn't really be letting him flirt with her, she should draw the line. As if Julie was an expert on human psychology, Andie asked when and how she should do so. "Why don't you just enjoy it?" Julie replied to Andie's questions. "Is that what you would do?" Andie replied back. "Yeah, in fact I'd practice on Bryan..if you know what I mean?" Andie just shook her head at her, but she looked amused. Hell even if some 16 year old gangly boy stared at Julie's boobs, she'd let him touch her up. Sex was sex.

Now, Andie had come back from her morning break. 11 couldn't come soon enough. Julie was dying to read one of her favourite books and masturbate. She'd probably masturbated 12 hours ago, she wished she could have got one in before she left work too. She felt a hand on her arm. It was Andie. She smiled at her, what was she playing at? "Could you do me a favour?" "Bryan?" Andie smiled apologetically. "Can you give him this note?" The question was on her lips, why couldn't she give it to him herself tomorrow but then seeing the look on her friend's face as if there was a rush, she smiled back and agreed.

Taking the note, she thought to get this over and done with.

In the entrance of the building, Bryan stood still as a statue. He looked menacing, big and she'd only seen him soften for Andie. It was nice to know he had that in him.

"Andie told me to give you this." God, this was just like school. He looked at her in is usual mix of hatred and amusement but Julie meant buisness and held out the note to him, not greeting him before hand, there was no point.

When he took the note she heard, "Okay thank you."

She was going to walk away.."Say, Bryan" She softened her voice a bit knowing she sounded a bit too tough, "do you have any weapons on you at this moment?" She couldn't look at his face, it wasn't the question, it was him, he was literally too menacing to her, his lips in a grim line.

"Yes." His Grimness didn't break.

"So you can tackle a thief?"

"Or a terrorist."


If he had a baton she'd have to steal and it masturbate with it. Then she'd give it to him and Andie as a little happy to see you together present, if that were to happen.

She laughed and walked away. In her mind she wanted to give him a blow job, use up some of her pent sexual energy, waiting and bursting to come out. Fuck she was bursting out of her top and her panties were creamed just from being awake.

She went back into the library and walked to the Romance section. Yeah, some things were a little more than "romantic." She should try something different, maybe a little Medical romance, yes Dishy Doctor and Nervous Nurse. But the Nurse becomes a total whore for him, why wouldn't she "He's dishy" She mocked out loud. She couldn't care less if people saw her talking to herself.

But this time she'd stick to her book about the new teacher at the all males school. So far the teacher had struck up quite a friendship with this some what star student and he'd come in and ask her advice more regularly, in her office no less. Julie read descriptions of "wispy dark brown hair and intense whiskey brown eyes", tall of course as was the case with romances and athletic looking. It was his serious nature that made Julie cream her panties, the way he would intensely listen to Ms Anderson in class and seek her out on everything, as if he was obsessed with her. Initially he thought her shy and nervous, now he thought she was a cut above every woman, two, he'd ever met.

"Mr Perry, you're early today."

"Yes. I have soccer practice in half an hour."

"Take a seat."

"You look pretty today."

"Excuse me?"

"I said you look pretty. Y-you look pretty everyday."

"Mr Perry."

"Ms Anderson. God, your face looks so flushed and alive."

"Well I am alive Mr Perry and I don't think that.."

In that moment he took her his arms and crushed his mouth to hers.

She slapped him. It stopped him only momentarily, he crushed his mouth to hers again. He kissed her like a man starving and he was a man, the erection in his trousers clear evidence of his manhood. It was raging like a ginormous instrument against her cunt.

He took her blazer from her shoulders. It was brown, tweed and hid her beautiful breasts from him.

Pushing her against the wall, he knelt down. He kissed through her skirt, kissed her cunt. Then he shoved his face under.

"It's the ffirst time I wore a skirt, ever."

He bit on her clit.


"MM" She ruffled his wispy hair.

"Please.." She kept moaning as he licked her pussy, her creamed panties shoved aside and her stockinged thighs rubbing against his head.

He kept licking and she was forced to shout out,"Suck my boobs PLEASE!"

Mr Perry gave her a devilish smile. His lips were wet and sticky from her juices. She needed to come but she also needed him to suck and lick her nipples which were pointing through her bra, her silk camisole and hber blouse.

"Oh.."He wrapped her garments off like a savage.

"Mm..such creamy tits.."

Julie touched herself, yeah okay so the book didn't say tits or cunt or a lot of other things, but it was going in that direction. "Oh the things I want to do to these. How big are they? "Mr Perry growled.

"I take a size 36 C."

"Oh baby, "He stuck his head inbetween her tit flesh. Then he licked literally around her tits. Touching her areola but not her nipple. There was no space between his lips and nose and her breasts, they were smashed against his face.

Julie masturbated imagining how Mr Perry licked around and around Ms Anderson's breasts and then when she was writhing almost dropping on the ground, he licked across one pointed, hard nipple. In her mind the heroine came along with Julie, her clit from pulsing to a sharp quick release and she could feel her whole pussy contracting, wet on the seat.

Thursday, 22 April 2010

The serious look.

Glasses add that seriousness to one's face. I happen to like it. I've had a fantasy about crawling across the table, messing a man's clothes up and have him fuck me on the table with his shirt all unrespectable and tie on the floor, since the age of 8. Or even better against a wall outside. But I do have an aversion to men who look as they they wax and tweeze their eye brows into thin lines wearing glasses. They normally seem to be bald, that seems to be a pattern which by the way I'm not mocking but just stating. I'm not twelve, I know hair is lost and to me it does not define a man. In fact men who blow dry their hair turn me off. I don't mind so much the trendy spikes because if I had boy short hair, I'd want to get it edgy looking too but it's not a turn on for me, it's just part of the man not the reason I like the man. Nice hair? What about nice hands, nice smile, nice arms, after all these are things I'm mostly encountering in bed or against a wall. The ruffle of hair is not going to take up that much time.

But this is a lame topic, and I've drawn it out and made it a post as much as I could. I suppose the reason I started it was partly because I saw Ethan Hawke (sorry, him again) wearing these big dorky glasses in Mystery Date (oh God love that movie), he looked so vulnerable and like if he cried wearing his glasses, it would kill me. Not cos it's Ethan Hawke, I no longer have a crush on him though I think he's drop dead gorgeous and the most good looking man in Hollywood bar none, quote me on it, but the first time I watched Dream Date (see it's so good, I got the title wrong), I had an appreciation for glasses.

Now I just have an appreciation for sex and men. Unfussy men, manly in the real way men. And if I put a pair of glasses on them and asked them to wear my pink panties, that's not at all going to turn me on.

p.s the woman in the picture has that whole Sweater Girl look. I love it. I want it. I wouldn't mind her either.

Tuesday, 20 April 2010

Dreams by The Cranberries. Enough said.

This song is like taking off all your clothes and jumping into the water. Btw I don't feel like that cos of the facebook thing, I just get these crazy feelings ANYWAY.

Carpe Lake-em!

The water where I went for a walk today was sparkling, it was so sunny. I had to walk past it and around it, just to enjoy it.

Facebook account disabled.

It happened just as I was typing in a comment...just like that. I didn't get a warning my account would be disabled, though I know why it is as do you, I just got "acknowledge this picture violates the terms" and has been removed. I was just discussing censorhip and all my album being removed and how black and white artistic nudes of a man coming on a woman's breasts are left alone but a woman showing her breasts, not even entirely in some pictures, is removed.

This is facebook where one can pose in a bikini, wear a pout and ask someone to keep them company when going for a shit on sexual group and the owner of group can post video links to porn but I had "use common sense and license to post porn" by someone who may not have been the group owner but sure got on their high horse, when I posted a link to a picture of myself licking my breasts. I had also given a warning beforehand.

I knew the time would come to leave, sure I didn't expect it to happen just like that and I am sad I won't get to communicate with the people there. I think I know who has reported me..I once blogged about the Mr Nolans of this world and whilst I'm no Keating or Todd Anderson, I am a woman who got told off well and good by this particular Mr Nolan.

Bye to my friends, I will miss YOU on facebook and now I remember what one of my friends sdaid about never joining it, it can be like a cult and what facebook and Ms Reporter of crime have done is acted like sheep, acted like part of a cult. I'm more free now than I was when I was on there.

Hello moderate account settings (facebook didnt have this, poor babies) and bye bye censorship. This gives me more time to work on this blog and my stories. THIS is my space, facebook was merely borrowed space.

I'll write them a little something like I have written here and before. Shit, let's live in a world where we can have objectification but not action. What would they have done if I had posted a video of my pussy or someone fucking me..YOUR ACCOUNT IS DISABLED STRAIGHT AWAY..NOW HERE'S A WHIPPING FOR YOU WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF YOUR FACE!!!

Corporal losers.

Monday, 19 April 2010


I really know what I want now.

I really know the realities and the things I need to go after to get.

I have blogged about this before but this is absolution. The day where the fear went. It didn't just up and take a holiday, what happened is inside something has changed and that keeps pushing at that fear. It's going, going..

I've decided that I want to work as a phone sex operator. I see that something in me, and on me, turns people on. What I feel, is the most politically incorrect thing. I'd like to make money from sex. Anyone can go on this ride; me. I am sexually free. What's the running rate? These are all questions and answers I have inside of me. More than writing Erotica I want to live it. To live it I need to be completely free. That will make me a slut, maybe a prostitute, it just seems vital, something I need to do. It's not something I hold lower than helping people who are made vulnerable by others, those who are bullied. I could go to a psychoanalyst and ask if my expressing my sexuality is a form of control, control that has been lost. But they won't see how different parts of me are. And why they clash and can lead to self hatred.

I don't even care if there is an element of control, that freedom that I have always wanted has lead to a happiness today. Not a burst, no rush but contentment. I did wonder..will I wake up 3 days later and feel sick. No I feel the opposite. I'm aware of things that could go wrong but I'm an adult, and I can be diplomatic. When it comes to physical meetings, I'll make sure I'm more than prepared, I'll take classes on that if need be. This how much I want to be a slut.

Yesterday I was watching Alias. No I don't want to be Sydney. Actually I'm quite different to Sydney and "bad ass" women, but I saw Ethan Hawke in the Double Agent episode. His body is how I imagine Michael Stevens' from Slowburn. Hawke's body is as big a turn on for me as his face and it's the kind of body I like as far as movies and tv go. When he's sitting on the bed after his shower, there's a drop of water on his back. I want to lick it off and then lick his whole back and then I want to give him the most loving blow job he's ever received. Him not the character. I got a glimpse of his body in Daybreakers, his chest made mine and my pussy aroused. I'm trying to get some stills from Alias and Daybreakers..but good porn takes time. Yes he's a piece of meat, beefcake, yes he has feelings and thoughts which I happen to like listening to and reading, but I deeply want to fuck him..deeply. Or someone who reminds me of him. As well as people who don't.

Speaking of beefcake, I'm reading the story Yes in The Things That Make Me Give In. Oh my, it's so beautiful when the guy asks the woman, are you going to fuck my ass..he's described as creamy.. and creamy, gawky in personality and comes so hard and fast. *Closes eyes* I'm gonna see if I can get an excerpt from that to post on here.

But after I get my mitts on The Point, Victoria Blise's new ebook. Oh my I just loved her last work Restoration, the way that statue is enjoyed by the woman and the man is gorgeous.

I think I have a preference for fucking men in the arse and lightly dominating them. It's okay if they don't want to, I'll see any vulnerability they have and imagine I'm fucking them their, sticking my finger or with a dildo and constantly pat their asses and whisper good boy.

"Book one in the Point Vamp Series

Love conquers all, that is the point but can it bridge the differences between a vampire and a woman?

Hugh is twenty eight. He has been twenty eight for nearly one hundred years. Hugh is a vampire. He owns a club called The Point and he pays girls to have sex with him. He then counts to ten as he sucks their blood to semi-satisfy his lust.

Elizabeth is a doctor, she loves her job but likes to escape into the countryside now and then. When she twists her ankle Hugh comes to her aid. He carries her curvy form all the way back to his home. He takes care of her ankle and the rest of her body too but he goes too far and sucks her perfectly intoxicating blood.

How can these two lovers have any kind of relationship? They don’t know, only time will reveal the answers.

Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of blood shed.

Read An Excerpt:[Click here to expand/collapse]
By reading any further, you are stating that you are 18 years of age, or over.
If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
Copyright © Victoria Blisse, 2010
All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.

Excerpt From: The Point

Hugh needed more, and as he thrust inside the juicy cunt beneath him, he knew it wasn’t enough. She moaned as he continued to go through the motions. If it were up to him, he’d leave out the sex bit, but it was an essential part of the process. He rolled onto his side, carrying the waif-like girl with him. She laughed and squealed in shock, and he pulled her back down onto his cock. He pressed a practiced finger to the juncture of their bodies and rubbed. Soon, she screamed and bucked in orgasm.

Hugh grunted and groaned as if he’d come, ready now for the thrill he was really after. He pushed her back down onto the bed and off him. She giggled and gasped as he grabbed her long hair and twisted her neck to the side.

“No,” she gasped, but her fake fear rang hollow as he flicked out his sharpened teeth and plunged them into her jugular vein. He drank, the vitality of her fresh blood zinging through him. He did not let himself get lost in the ecstasy though. He counted down from ten then ripped himself away.

He felt as if he’d been denied just on the brink of orgasm, but at least, his body buzzed with life even if he wasn’t fully sated. He took a wad of twenty pound notes from the pocket of his jacket beside the bed and gave it to the girl.

She smiled, her eyes still blissed out from the effect of the orgasm and the blood loss.

“See you again, Hugh. You’re the best, you know that?”

“Thanks.” He smiled and pulled on his creased black trousers then buttoned his stiff white shirt. The blonde cleaned herself up. Hugh felt slightly bad that he didn’t know her name though he’d fucked and sucked her five times before. He fastened his tie then shrugged on his long-lined suit jacket.

“Goodbye,” he said and didn’t wait for an answer. He walked from the room, through his club, The Point, and out the front doors into the cold air of the night.

Hugh hated what he was but over the years had developed a way to cope with it. He had been just twenty-eight when he’d been changed a hundred and some years ago. He had lived with his rich parents in the country and travelled now and then into the city to socialise and half-heartedly look for a bride. He had returned from one such trip to find utter devastation in his the living room.

His parents had lain in the centre, dead eyes staring, necks bloodied and torn. He had heard a noise and followed it. Up in his sister’s room he had found a man lying atop of her while she struggled to be free. Hugh had yelled, but it had been too late. The foul beast had already drained her and, moments later, was on top of him. Hugh had screamed and yelled for as long as possible but had known it was useless. The house was far away from any other homes. He had greeted the darkness quietly expecting to meet his maker.

It hadn’t worked like that. The evil being had brought him back into a new, cruel world where desire sat constantly in the pit of Hugh’s stomach and he ached to be filled. He had been a beast in those first months and he carried the shame of that with him still.

Only when he had ripped into the soft, white neck of Lucy, his old friend and secret crush had he realised what a monster he was. He had intended to turn her, to create a long-term mate, but as she had pleaded with him, his heart had melted. He had drained her and let her die because he could not control the blood lust that had run through his veins. He had buried her body and sworn he would never drain another human as long as he lived. And that, he realised, would be one hell of a long time. "

Sunday, 18 April 2010

Betty Blue.

Has anyone seen this movie? I watched it some time ago. I love to watch a movie that pushes me in some way. Even the trailer affects me and I felt a tug on when I watched the movie, no neat little answers, an uneasiness that's what I felt. It wasn't the greatest movie I ever saw about 5 years ago, it didn't steal my heart like Dead Poets Society but Betty Blue is a slowburn affair. It leaves you wondering when you watch it at a certain level of maturity. I no longer want the boy to passionately kiss the older woman and make love on the table, instead I want the more realistic stuff, not sex but two people who are fucking who do have an impact on each other in some way. Betty Blue isn't Why Didn't You Write Me?! It's GOD DAMNED BETTY BLUE.

I'm going to see if I can get a copy of this online.

I wonder when I watch it again now more mature, will it get to me like The Piano Teacher? But the thing with The Piano teacher is that it wasn't about fire (to me that is what Betty Blue represents..the blue in the picture is funny), The Piano Teacher was about the great Isabella Huppert's performance. Personally she's the only woman who comes close to reminding me a little of Greta Garbo.

I was reading an interesting debate about Betty Blue which asked the same question; why do American critics make this movie about Beatrice Dalle's (Betty) tits and ass, have they never seen a sexy woman's parts..unless in porn or the young "hotties"..know what I mean? It seems they're extreme about women and sex and femininity. It's either classy or sexy, one can't be both. To me Beatrice Dalle does indeed have a nice body but it's that performance, it's impulsive. So I think the movie is made great by her.

The extremes in Western society also make me wonder about women who features in magazines, implants, tan and extensions, it's obvious sensuality and I feel sorry for Roger Ebert the American movie critic. I know like my feeling sorry isn't going to make the earth horizontal but he seems narrowminded...just as I was getting to like his passion, bad bad boy. "Reviews have been written debating the movie's view of madness, of feminism, of the travail of the artist. They all miss the point. "Betty Blue" is a movie about Beatrice Dalle's boobs and behind, and everything else is just what happens in between the scenes where she displays them." - Roger Ebert

I like the reply to that from a poster, "He can't be serious!" Indeed.

Saturday, 17 April 2010

More where that came from.

Poor flickr!

and a video!/video/video.php?v=1395418014415

Sacrifice and high horses.

Yesterday I decided to take a step further. It wasn't a thought out decision and it was very simply done. It was hardly an erratic move, anyone who knows me may be a bit suprised, probably they won't be, but I doubt they were shocked. It was well within my personality. By the way I'm not justifying it, just that sometimes you get to the stage where you think yeah okay I want to go there. It's part of my exploration and expression as pretentious as that sounds, how else do you put it?

I posted a link on a board along with a message in which I explained why I posted, a warning and a mini "apology." It was that picture I posted a link to on here yesterday. There are pictures of people with full frontal shots, black and white artistic nudes and one in which a woman is catching her man's come with her tongue as he shoots on her breasts and young women looking like girls with tops and skirts pushed up, pulled down. On this board the latter pictures feature along with messages like I'm going to poo, who wants to chat whilst I do so? Which I'm not mocking but the board is called perverted female sexuality and has a lot of taboo and left of centre stuff. It's a way to express yourself and I won't ever mock that.

Let's just say my message on that board didn't go down well with one young woman. In fact she really got on her high horse with this one. I've encountered similar tones from women before, the -no you move out the way- kind of stuff. I'm not saying they are all the same but I know someone jumping on their high horse and intolerance when I see 'em. Like I say consider the tone of the group, consider my warning message, consider other posts on the group. But no that was not considered in her reply to me to me on that board.

The outcome of the situation could be that I have my not just my membership to that board deleted but that I have my account deleted too. I'm prepared for that, I can still communicate with all my friends and that's the sacrifice I'll make. But when I set out to express myself, that will not be sacrificed. I won't post anything but a few words on that board again. I won't be going further in expressing myself on there, no exploration for me on there. I'll do it anywhere but there. If I have crossed a line, there was another way to tell me. I'm not even sure if I have pushed boundaries. In this world, young girls can dress up in short, short skirts and we can have The Pussy Cat Dolls. We can have photos of sexuality if they are artistically done. But we can't have honesty..unless it's full out porn. Just ask yourself, how offensive is a picture of a woman licking her breasts? IS that really porn? If it's a pornographic act, isn't "I'm going to poo chat to me whilst I do so?" Again consider the board and that I posted the link, not the picture, and consider that I explained myself.

So in going after what you want which is to live out your sexuality, you have to make sacrifices but think about what they are. I'm not doing it out of pride, or to not back down, I'm doing this as an expression. And if you have read my blog you will know that is not just a cheap cliche.

And you have to be prepared for the inconvenient as well as the good. I won't give details but you know there are people who have taboo tastes which you don't share and you find a turn it worth it to stay in contact with them? That's a fully fledged question, one which I will leave open.

Friday, 16 April 2010

For those who want to see the author of this blog

in a certain way here's a pic. It's a slutty pic so you have been warned, I'm not bigging myself up, this is very tame, this pic. I've sent it to a few people and they're like erm I'm confused. they enjoy it but confusion is's a very small pic apparently. Or try explain, those are my hands with the finger nail polish on them, you should see my tongue and those are my boobs yes. Once you see it, there's really no way you should be confused.! And yes I enjoyed it.

By the way I may make a video and I don't care who sees this pic. I guess the slut is on fire.

There are so many excellent blogs on the net.

There will be someone who bitches about the internet but I'll tell you something for every vice, there's a freedom of expression for us women out there. And no I still don't think we get to express ourselves enough outside the internet without having to make some sort of sacrifice or play into a man's game. If a woman dresses up she's going to have to face shit. This is a reality. So on the net you can let your inner slut out without having to live up to the expectation and cliche that are you asking to suck every man's cock or the ultimate bullshit, asking to be raped. The idea of sucking every man's cock is hot but my point is, the inner slut needs to be respected also.

I found this blog which I just love. Yesterday I was cracking up and have a gay old time and nodding at the sweater vests posts and her, like me, English vocab and sense of humour and today it's ol

This blog is going to take up most of my day too. I love what she writes which I have linked below. Mostly I myself have written about a man dominating me but sometimes I want to be dominating him. I think I'm going to do that for Julie in Desire. I think there's going to be lots of of play between being dominated and dominating but ultimately the woman is a dominatrix. You see I may want a man to come over my breasts, spank my arse till it's red and stings and have his friend fuck me in my anus whilst my boyfriend fucks his cum in my pussy and makes me pregnant, but I do want to spank ooh let's call them Neil Perry or Todd Anderson. So it may sound hypocritical to some but somethings I can't quite articulate ..but she does a good job of it in her blog. One thing I love is when people don't understand and say she's really a man. *freak wave of an eyeroll*

"I like pain. I like it quite simple. I don’t want to be distracted or have my concentration focused outside of my body. I don’t do anything flash. I’m generally uncoordinated and clumsy. I know there is little point in me trying to be all fancy with whips or anything too clever or hard to handle. I’m not dexterous. I can’t put on a show. I don’t insert things in his urethra or breathe fire. I don’t tap dance. I miss sometimes. The first ten are always practice. I lose my grip. My skill set is tiny. What I do is often unaesthetic and messy and awkward. But I’ve been doing this a while and what I do works. It hurts and it doesn’t rupture internal organs. It turns me on and I am now at point where I know that that is fine. That hurting men can be something that is decidedly not performance art and that is fucking damn okay. It’s sex, not cabaret.

But this is the most dangerous part. The hitty-hurty part. Drop likes this part too. Sometimes I fight all the way through. Sometimes, when it’s bad it feel like every stroke is ripped the wrong way though every bit of social conditioning I’ve ever had. All my life I have been taught to give, to nurture, to soothe, that I shouldn’t damn well hurt people to get myself off.

You know that whole line about, This hurts me far more than it hurts you.

Subs are laughing at me now. Yeah, it’s kind of trite I know but all I mean is I *get* where that is coming from.

I can’t actually come from hitting someone, but I can get pretty close to the edge, so much so that when I stop and get the vibe out or get his mouth on me, I’ll need to watch out I don’t tip over too quick. And hopefully he’s smart enough or knows me well enough to realise that while I’m getting off a little movement that rattles the cuffs or a dirty little moan is just what I need.

I come and then I’ll sometimes cry a bit and then my whole world will contract in a big rushing implosion of the fuck! and – wow – I am the tiniest loneliest person in the world. And I hate myself. And I hate what I just did. And I hate that it got me off so hard. And this happens every time. Every. Single. Time.

And then I pull myself up enough to jerk him off or move on somehow because every responsible top knows that even if you drop into a pit of post-orgasmic utter despair with yourself you still have responsibilities. That’s the nature of the gig.

So – you know – perhaps I am that giving nurturing soothing creature I was taught to be after all.

But then, just when you thought this was going to have a downbeat ending, I get my everyday miracle. It doesn’t come with the orgasm. And after the orgasm is the pit of despair. But after the pit. Now there, there’s where we were trying to get.

About twenty minutes after the orgasm that results from hitting a man with stuff sex, there is an overwhelming feeling of righteous wonder that I have only ever felt equaled in pleasurability by falling in love.

I am so fucking grateful to the guy who let me do this. Who came on this journey with me. Who took me to this place. *This* is why d/s is *always* better with an emotional bond.

I don’t want to really call it love, it is though, it’s love. This is where love lives for me. Play games with pain and you’re playing games with emotions. And this is why my heart is always getting broken.

It soars too high."

This cocoon I'm in.

This weekend before I go back to the stupid world, I'm going to have the caved in time of my life. I was going to go grocery shopping, fuck that, I like to live on leftovers and eat out of jars because there is nothing else. It makes me actually look forward to the weekly food shop.

My plans for my cocoon weekend;

Read Penelope Friday's Too Good To Be True,

Watch Great Expectations. Ethan Hawke is so hot when he's pumping into Gwyneth. In my mind, I bump the doll off and he's fucking me. I want to take him against a brick wall in the rain and give him a blow job,

Listen to great music and have a dance around

Enjoy myself, know what I'm saying..I love woman on woman porn. No fucking each other with dildos, but rubbing their pussies and fucking in the missionary postion really turns me on. I have to wonder, am I going lesbian, can one go lesbian? The only man in porn who actually turns me on is one I've blogged about and the reason he turns me on is he's so fucking sensual. I want men to do women like women do each other porn. Lots of kisses, tongue and sexy fondling.

Sit out on the balcony and write scorching hot sex in the cold wind that makes my nipples hard,

Watch Robin Williams' stand up show tonight. The funniest man alive AND in Dead Poets Society? Do-able.

Thursday, 15 April 2010

Where's the awesome in abs?

And other universe altering questions.

But seriously I went in for my daily masochist strip my femininity away check to Daily Mail and I found this pic here. I can't stop looking. I mean first of all this is clearly staged. And secondly she does look very excersised in some places but hot damn, those are strong abs there. I mean she's running and there's just no flop is there..which makes wonder if she's really running - you'd be surprised or not at the level of stage in these photos.

She is small, 5ft 2 like me, we're hardly going to look like athletes, when we lose weight this is what we look like, not the specific fit look embraced by magazines. To me she looks athletic but for others it will be scrawny. I'm different because I have that kind of body, I'm not saying I have her body but that kind so I will never be critical the way others are.

But I am impressed with her ab muscles. But mostly when I really look at it, the hip to waist ratio.

But why are abs so focused on? Was is it about them showing that is equated with the hotness? The hard work that goes in getting em like that?

One reason I go on Daily Mail is to see simply what people are wearing. I've been flitting (yes it's a word) between the whole flat shoes versus mid heel nonsense for months now. It's because I've been wearing heels my whole life and my God something happens to my lower legs when I wear them, I can't resist seeing that grace there. You want to shoot me but understand this, I'm 5 ft 2, I have short legs, I am in no way leggy like Natalie Portman, my body is not built like hers, I'm happy with my body, my legs seem toned as if I play tennis all day and when I drive I can't resist feeling the tone in my upper thigh, give us some of that,!, (what?) but I have short lower legs in particular, I mean really toned but short ones. More East Asian than leggy Indian legs, I'm pale and toned, like Kristen Stewart if she chopped a foot off her legs. So the heels make em look scrawny..but almost animal like. And I like. It's my feature. I don't show off my boobs, I'm pale and blotchy and tired looking but I have an okay set of facial features and toned legs. I don't want to be a great beauty and I think beauty is overrated, I'm the kind of girl who appreciates the line in Me Myself and Irene about having a face which looks like it's on vigorous lemon suck and flaws and all more so than a weeping you're so beautiful you're so beautiful kind of stuff. So I'm keeping the mid heels.

Speaking of the scrawn, today I was trying on my shoes and indeed wondering about the flats, there are days where I honest to God want to dress as frumpy as possible so I can act all Horny Librarian/door mouse so flats will be kept for those and when I got to the third pair of shoes with the ankle straps so loose I'd have to get a shoe two sizes smaller than that which is a size smaller than my shoe size, I came over all -I want to wrap my hand around my ankle and love it to pieces. When you look at photos and see your legs are half the size of your arms at the age of FIVE, you feel protective over what makes you you. When stuff happens to you, it makes you want to wrap your own wrist around your grandma thin ankles (the ones that don't have swollen ankles) knowing it's only you who's gonna appreciate it when you don't fit any cliches and magazine ideas of beauty. The scrawn in you makes you appreciate Sweater Vests blog posts/ Sweater Vest porn really..for the scrawn under those vests. I do need some geek loving from time to time, even when I get married to someone who's a breath of fresh air to those pretty faces, but oh BABY I have some serious sweater vest and spectacles shit going on in my female regions right now.

But seriously get back to me on the abs thingmy.

I dreamt about some of this. More on my newest.

Afterwards, he turned me around, touching my breasts he said they were cold. Yeah, really? I just laughed at his not often seriousness on such a thing.

"I hope your room mate has gone to take care of matters now."

"If he had any sense."

"Slagging him off, things must be bad."

I felt him shrug his shoulders.

"I suppose this is where we talk about things." I could never quite tell what he was thinking, it didn't matter how hard I studied his face.

"I don't want to talk." He scratched his neck.

"Yeah you do."

"Who made you boss?"

I smiled. At least he was telling me off, that was a start.

"You know, "DAD", my skirt is bloody and I really need to get cleaned up..but here I am asking you about your life so don't you at least owe me SOME time?"

"Fine, so don't ask me."

"If I didnt ask, you wouldnt tell me in a million years."

"You just have me all figured out don't you." He broke away.

"On the contrary." I said firmly. "You either make jokes or close off when you're uncomfortable that is the ONLY thing I can assume about you since we've been going together."

"How long have we been going together?" he murmured.

"Why bored of me? Cos if you throw me off, it's your loss. No one is going to give into you like I do and no one cares about you as much as me." I didn't want to admit my feelings but there it was.

I heard his sniff. I went to the hand baisin and cleaned myself up as best as I could. I changed and put on a pair of jeans.

"I'm not going anywhere." I sat on the bed next to him. Laundry would wait.

"Where did you get those jeans?"

"You like?"

"I prefer you in a skirt. Easier access. I feel you're all independant and woman in this jeans."

"Whereas in the skirt I'm your little girl?"

"There's no shame in being honest." I whispered.

"It's not quite so simple" he said.

"My dad's a jerk." The room was so silent it was deafening. I put my hand near his body.

"All those things I called you, is that how you feel about your dad?"

"Well minus the sexual connotations." He smiled slowly.

"Can you ever be serious?"

"Well you're serious for the both of us."

"It's not my fault you have a clearly shit relationship with your parent, don't take it out on me. It's not so easy for me, I have it hard at school."

"Yeah so do I." I knew he was being immature now.

"No..your dad makes it hard here but I have shit coming from all directions not just my parents. Sometimes I feel at least they love me no matter what."

He gave me a look. I didn't know what that was. I stood up and faced him. "You're the only reason I'm here."

"What about your education?"

"I could have gone elsewhere."

"You came here cos of me?" He stood up.

No words could come out of my mouth. I walked to the window. Seeing my reflection, I ignored the state I was in, put it this way the jeans were the only thing sticking to my body.

Ethan had gone at least. I smiled.

"Why are you smiling?" I felt a light kiss on my the back of my neck.

"I want to give you a blowjob" I whispered. He turned me around and kissed me. "Let me do it." I insisted moaning in his mouth. It wasn't the first time I'd given him a blowjob, but after the kiss, he whispered that he wanted to fuck "these" massaing my breasts through my sweater. I pressed my hands over his. It would be my first tity fuck from him. "Pinch my nipples with your fingers. Get them hard." "Oh!" I moaned. He did.

"Suck on me through my sweater." He kneeled on the ground looking into my eyes the entire time. Because I was short, he could get my breasts with his mouth. "Uh.." Oh yeah he bit my nipples through the material of my top, when he wasn't biting them he pinched and pulled on them with his fingers. "That ffeels so good." I was so aroused. He pulled my nipples so hard I had to look down. My sweater was tented with two mini poles sticking out. He stood up. I pushed my sweater up and pushed his zipper down.

I guided his cock which smacked against my breasts. He was a little hard already. Pushing my tits together I created a cavern, and guided his pre cum dick into them. "Ooh!" I moaned as he pushed into my tit cavern. "Oh yeah" I moaned, "harder, do them harder." He did, thrusting like he thrust into my pussy last week before our arguments. "Keep going" I moaned "Ddon't you want to do this all the time?" I heard his moan, I'm sure he meant yes. "After every class.. I-I want you to fuck them in the toilets. Make me ddirty with your hot cum." I moaned. I pushed my tits up more so my hard nipples got more friction against his cock.

I looked him in the eyes as my tongue got his cum. I purred as he came violently over my tit flesh and on my tongue.

Wednesday, 14 April 2010

More on my newest.

I heard knocking on my dorm door, I knew it was jerk. When I opened it, I wasn't proved wrong.

I glared at him. Boy, being angry made me able to look people in the eye even a guy who fondled my body parts and stuck his tongue so deep in my mouth I felt dizzy, I normally felt a bit shy around him too. Not right now for sure.

"You going to let me in?"

Because jerk devoted all of his whiskey brown gaze onto me, I actually did cower. But I waited until he got his dumb body in the room and watched him close the door. When he turned around, I slapped his face. Holy fuck and it wasn't a pathetic slap either. It made his whole body react, he flinched hard, he was still holding a hand to his bright red face. When he let go of his cheek, I saw what I had done.

He's going to hit me back. That was my first instinctive thought. What happened next is, I felt myself moving backwards and backwards. I ran to the window the other side of the room. He walked slowly towards me. He was walking real slow. When he got near me, he looked me over and then looked back to my face. I had gone from angry bitch to frightened bitch and I'm sure it showed.

"Uh" He pulled me close to him and kissed me. His tongue went deeper, was more forceful in my mouth.

He pulled my hair with his hands as I moaned into his mouth.

His lips tore away from mine which felt bruised. He gasped and I gasped but he didn't touch the side of my lips, instead he turned me to the window and pushed me so my breasts touched the glass. He pulled my sweater up from behind and now at least half of my boobs pressed against the window. Anyone outside could see. I felt moisture in my cunt.

He tugged my hair and whispered into my ear, "I get a hard enough time from my dad as it is, I don't expect any bull shit from you."

Mr Less than Perfect pulled my nonsense scrap of a skirt down and saw that I had panties. Fuck, I was menstruating. I wanted him up my ass but I couldn't..and..I knew he wouldn't do it. "Do you want it?" He asked. His voice was softer now.

I nodded seeing his reflected in the window pane. "I bet your tits are real swollen." He hadn't spoken like this before. He called them breasts, pillows, he was cute with them. But never roughly spoke of them.

"What the fuck do you think.." I moaned, "I'm on my period. " "AH!" Oh God! He spanked me. I wriggled my arse at him.

Then I felt like digging myself into a hole, Ethan his room mate appeared outside the window. Oh shit. I didn't like this.

"Its okay, baby" My lover crooned into my ear. "You wanna be watched don't you?" I could see the reflection of his face looking straight at me.

"I..dont know.."

Fantasy was different to reality.

"I'm going to fuck you"

I gasped.

"Despite your period, I'll wash your dirty blood off my cock afterwards and Ethans gonna watch. You're going to give him something to wack his dick over, arent you?"

"Why do you care about this dick?"

"Cos, my girl. I'm sick of him masturbating to some phoney Playboy crap." *Spank!*

"Oh!" You jerk off to Playboy I wanted to say but he hit me on my other cheek. No fair, he had the upper hand, literally.

"You know I can smell his arousal and I can't stand it. The only spunk I wanna smell is yours." Oh fuck when did he learn to talk like a fucking animal?

His room mate was paying attention to my tits. I felt like he wanted to press his lips to the window and pretend to suck my nipples. "MM" It was deprived what my lover was doing. He stuck his hand over my bloody clit. I thought me might give it to me to suck off but he just fondled my ass.

"I want in your anus. You're going to give it to me, aren't you? Pretend I'm your dad." Holy..this was some god damned perversion!

"Not literally I won't." "Ah!" He spanked me again..

Then more like growled than asked, "Why, can't stand him either?"

"He's intolerable."

"But I'm not. Don't argue baby" He pulled my hair. "You worship your daddy don't you?"

"If you say so."

I felt his dick poke me. I got him hard as a ROCK.

"Now I'm going to fuck my obedient daughter."

"MM." Despite myself I moaned.

"Watch Ethan's face. Don't look away or I'll leave you like this and wack off in the toilets."

Sadist. I watched his room mate as Daddy fucked me in the anus. I'm sure I saw Ethan's eyes go grey like the sky, how it normally was in this cold shit hole.

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. " Daddy pulled my hair and fucked hard in the ass. I could feel myself pulsing ready to come over his cock as his room mate imagined sucking on my boobs.

Ethan placed his tongue on the window and I made sure my nipples were pressed firmly to the glass. He licked the dirty glass around one of my nipples. I could see his saliva on the window. I would love to have him come over my tits in the toilets.

"I think my daughter thinking of some perverted shit to do to Ethan."

"Is Ethan one of daddys friends?" I gasped. He was going fast and furious at my ass.

"No he's not my friend." He growled.

Aww. You had to love loyalty.

So I imagined they didn't touch each other's cocks in the boys dorms, no helping each other to climax over some big boobed slut in a magazine.

"I'm tthinking..ooh..I..wished you had fucked me like this ss-uh GOD..sooner."

My scalp ached, my clit was pulsing and my anus was going to produce some funky crap over this little fuck session but it was worth it all when I had him shoot his cum in my anal passage. As he continued to yell out his release, I watched Ethan lust over my tits. Yeah, poor boy, he wanted them but first I was going to have to get an earful of Dad here.

Alternative title The Adventures of Jerk Wad and Brother F...

(brother as in friend).

It wasn't just an incredibly hot day, it was sweltering. There was no part of the air outside that provided any comfort for me. My boyfriend told me to wait outside for him after English class. He was talking to his friends and did not even look at me out of the corner of his eye when class finished. All the other girls looked at me when I was standing outside the door waiting like a little obedient puppy for his Highness. Some girls even pushed me a little, I was the shortest in our year but my boyfriend told me I also had the biggest ass. After he saw me refuse to eat anything for lunch and dinner at our halls, he told me he meant it as a compliment. I was about to tell him where to stick the food, when he stuck a spoon of mashed potatoes in my mouth and basically forced me to eat it. He then told me to wear a longer skirt as I was flashing my thighs to all his friends.

This started off our series of bad days. Each night he would try and get his dick into my pussy, I'd say panties but unless I'm menstruating I don't wear any, and I would yell something, anything at him, stuff like how he was a controlling jerk, how he never understood the pressures I endured, how he didn't know what it was like being a fucking girl at this crap heap of a school. I swore and slammed his door. The third night I did this, I was met by a pair of brown eyes. His friend, Charles. I was so aroused I had to masturbate at the thought of Charles fucking my anus in my room.

I hadn't thought about my jerk boyfriend sexually for almost a week. I liked the new found "freedom." But I also liked that I was still with him. Over the weekend I got my skirt to be made shorter. I didn't want to roll it up any longer and I wanted the long safety pin that was there to be placed just right of my shaved pussy. No one knew except me and I hoped either Charles or jerk would smell my pussy's arousal.


"Oh so you're free now!" I shouted at jerk in the corridor.

He didn't say anything, just went red in the face. God damn it, I wanted to say just fucking say something for once in your life, tell me off, do something, I know Charles would.

I started to walk away when I felt him grab my sweater. "You're wearing less and less clothing each day" Underneath the sweater I didn't wear a shirt as one is supposed to. It was a v neck and I was braless underneath.

"So?" I sassed.

"You're skirt is shorter too." His lips were drawn into a line, tight and unyielding.

"You don't own me." I scolded.

I walked away and made sure my big ass was swaying from side to side for him. Yeah that's right, no one gets to feel this up without earning it. My big ass was soft but pert, it would be great upturned on a desk, bare pussy against the wood and spanked so both my cheeks were stinging and red.

I had recently developed a spanking fetish. Ass play too, someone fondling it with the rest of me clothed outdoors, indoors, anywhere they liked. What the fuck?! I hated how that interfered with my feminist bullshit. This goddamned school, it was a prison. I wanted to get out, I was now a consenting adult ..jerk had apparently already reached that status.

Lush Velvet Nights by Tina Donahue.

Let me start off by saying that it is VERY HARD to get over Adored and Adam. There's a few lines in that book which still affect me when I read it for the fifth time and these are just parts of a conversation, the story is just forever imprinted.

So when I read Lush Velvet Nights, whilst I knew from the excerpt it would be good and that it's written by the same author responsible for the awe I have for Adored, this is no ass kiss I'm serious, I wasn't expecting to have slightly red eyes after reading this. Not only was I in tune with the story because it is so wonderfully, perfectly written and the characters fully dimensional human beings, I was turned on by the gorgeous sexual descriptions, feelings and the way Nathan took Adriana. And took is a cheap word but to really take someone, that doesn't come cheap and that is not cheap.

The ending of the book blew my mind. I want to go back to my story Slowburn and have them strip each other raw internally. I was happy to read about a man who isn't just a hunk to be used sexually by women (mm not that I have a problem with that, mmmm) but he's got things he really needs to work through himself. Adriana is an intelligent and feisty woman with depth and sensitivity for Nathan who destroys the cliche of an erotic story Viking, because he fully grows to incapsulate (word?!) that strength and determination of that spirit. I thought she would need his strength because she had things to work through too but it was the opposite and Nathan isn't even a weak man.

I'm sure I will want to write more about this but I've just read the book so I'll leave you with an excerpt and a blurb for now.

Wish me happy articulation for Slowburn cos I'm going to need it and less than two weeks to go for the release of Lissa Matthews' Sweet Caroline (oh Buck!)

"During the day, Adriana’s a lonely corporate heiress, helming a supermarket empire. At night, she hires escorts, scripting provocative fantasies of kidnapping, lust, submission and endless longing. It’s all she has to excite her until she meets Nathan Wynn.

Tall, blond and muscular—like a modern-day Viking—Nathan is a labor relations attorney representing Adriana’s union employees. His imposing presence intensifies her basest desires. When he protects her from an escort he believes is an attacker, she knows he’s wonderfully dominant and unrestrained.

Fascinated by Adriana’s underlying sensuality, Nathan brings her to his secluded mountain estate, determined she submit fully to his hunger. At a gentleman’s club, he makes certain she denies him nothing. Engaging in a seductive sexual journey, Nathan’s caught off-guard by his stunning need for Adriana—and a growing emotional connection she will not let him deny."



Copyright © TINA DONAHUE, 2010

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One

Beneath Adriana Greco’s conservative business suit, her upper thighs and buttocks were naked, prepared for what would happen once her meeting ended. Somewhere outside the doors of this office, her kidnapper waited. A man she’d never met, one who’d take control, bending her to his will, stripping her bare, keeping her his sexual slave for the three-day weekend ahead. A fantasy she’d arranged with the escort agency known only by the letter S. Not for the first time she wondered what the S represented—Submission, Seduction, Sex—or all three.

Her pulse quickened and her mouth went dry. She didn’t dare leave the conference table to get another bottle of water. Her legs trembled so badly, Adriana wasn’t certain they would support her. Even if she did make it to the refreshment table, the others in this meeting might notice her lingering at Nathan Wynn’s side. How could she resist? He provided a more pressing temptation than her scripted fantasies with men she hired.

Early thirties and definitely in his prime, Nathan stood near the credenza by the snacks, glancing at the Los Angeles skyline. In the January rain, a more common occurrence than tourists thought, the sparkling city lights seemed to wiggle, providing a kaleidoscope of shifting colors bleeding into the darkness.

Nathan’s rugged good looks gave away none of his thoughts. As a successful labor relations attorney negotiating the new contract for Adriana’s union employees, he’d controlled today’s bargaining so effortlessly. Now he met her company’s newest proposal with silence, using the lull to strike uncertainty, to intimidate.

Adriana’s attention trickled down his large frame. Her heart beat at an uncomfortable pace. Hours earlier, he’d removed his navy suit jacket and rolled his shirt sleeves to mid-forearm despite the room’s slight chill. At the time she’d inhaled deeply, wanting to draw in his scent, a masculine fragrance reminding her of a morning breeze in Greece…the air warmed by the sun, moistened by the sea. His shoulders were impossibly broad, straining his shirt’s expensive cotton fabric as he filled his coffee cup, a prelude to giving the meeting’s participants his decision.

Fascinated, Adriana watched his muscles flexing with his movements. The flesh on her inner thighs grew moist. Light brown hair dusted his forearms, a contrast to his dark blond locks. Unlike other attorneys of his stature and wealth, he wore his hair as carelessly as a manual laborer, longish in the back and on the top, allowing it to skim his ears and forehead.

Suppressing a shiver, Adriana imagined his hair hanging to his shoulders like a Viking, the strands tangled from the ocean’s stiff wind, his powerful body clothed in fur and leather, his dark brown eyes intent, ruthless, lusting as he and his crew left their ship in search of plunder and women. Reaching her, he would grip her arm, precluding any escape. No screams, no pleas would stop him from taking what belonged to him. Inside her crude hut, where she’d been born and nurtured by parents who had long since passed, his sinewy body would imprison hers on the animal skins serving as a maiden’s bed. Not any longer. From this moment forward, she’d never know another night or another day without his dominating touch. Mouth over hers with his tongue plunging inside, he’d shove her homespun dress to her waist, baring her sex. Shamelessly, possessively, his long fingers would probe her cunt, seeking her hot channel. Once inside, he’d pierce her barrier and stretch her virginal flesh, preparing it for his cock. Her wait wouldn’t be long. He’d sink deep into her with one forceful thrust, his weighty testicles slapping her buttocks as he pumped unrelentingly, enslaving her to his body and the carnal future he intended for her.

A nagging pressure built in Adriana’s groin. In response, moisture seeped from her pussy.

Without warning, Nathan’s eyes lifted from his coffee to her. His studied indifference wavered.

Adriana’s lips parted at the chink in his armor, the surprising vulnerability she detected in his penetrating gaze. What caused such a thing? Had she spoken without realizing it or sighed too loudly?

His attention remained on her. Heat flared in his dark eyes.

A shiver of pleasure ran down Adriana’s spine. The rest of her froze in confusion. In all the days they’d spent holed up in this room, Nathan never looked at her as anything other than his adversary. She owned Greco, Inc., a prominent supermarket chain inherited from her father, an unhappy man who’d rarely noticed her at all. The only men who gave her their time and full attention were the ones she hired.

Self-consciously, she touched the edge of her half-rim reading glasses, adjusting them.

A smile lifted the corners of Nathan’s demanding mouth. Adriana tried to pull in a full breath and could not. She stared at his inviting lips. Seconds slipped by. Her heart pounded in time with the slanting rain striking the windows. It sounded like crinkling cellophane.

Steve Boyle, her company’s attorney and one of her best friends, tapped her wrist with his pencil. Eyes still on Nathan, she leaned over to Steve.

Nathan’s assistant Meghan strolled to the window, pretending to read her notes, giving Adriana and Steve a bit of privacy. Adriana stared at the lovely twenty-something girl, guessing Meghan probably slept with Nathan on a regular basis.

Steve brought his face close to Adriana’s ear. His shaggy mustache tickled her cheek. “What gives?” he whispered.

Her attention strayed to Nathan’s eyes. They hadn’t moved from her. Her cunt ached. She whispered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not paying attention. Wynn asked you a question several minutes ago. So, what gives? Is your bun too tight? Did it cut off circulation to your brain?”

Uncomfortable warmth spread from Adriana’s chest to her neck and cheeks. She averted her gaze from Nathan and flicked it at Steve. Although he was thirty, the same as her, his rapidly balding head made him look much older. To compensate for the hair loss on top, he’d grown one of the biggest mustaches she’d ever seen outside of those on men of Middle Eastern ancestry. Her voice lowered another notch. “Be nice, or I swear I’ll tell everyone here you use Rogaine on that thing on your upper lip.”

Unfazed by her retort, and certainly not deterred, Steve’s hazel eyes twinkled with mischief. “Better answer Wynn or he may think you were staring at him because you think he’s hot.”

Adriana’s blush reached the tips of her ears and prickled her scalp. “What did he ask?”

“If you want to sleep with him.”

Her heart lurched. Blood drained from her face so quickly the room spun.

Steve noticed. His hand squeezed hers. “Hey, relax. I was joking.” His eyes narrowed with his scrutiny. “You okay?”

Not even close. She lied with a nod and repeated, “What did he ask?”

“If we’d be willing to extend our current healthcare benefits for another year, then modify them to what we want. In exchange, the union’s willing to immediately reduce their number of paid holidays.”

Even with her dizziness, Adriana knew it wasn’t a fair exchange and would cost her company several million dollars in this shitty economy. Of course, a strike could nudge them toward bankruptcy like so many other California businesses. No wonder a smile had interrupted Nathan’s controlled demeanor. He deserved his reputation for grinding adversaries under his heel, giving her very little wiggle room, just like in her Viking fantasy, with far less pleasant results.

If she agreed to his demand, she’d prove her father right—she wasn’t the child he’d wanted—a fearless, brutal, driven executive who didn’t take shit from anyone, not even the unions. If she didn’t agree, she’d force Nathan to return. She’d hunger over him for a few more days before she ultimately surrendered to his stipulations and the knowledge he’d never desire her. The heat she’d seen in his eyes represented a male’s reaction to a fight he knew he’d win. Would he celebrate his victory tonight with Meghan? Would he imprison her beneath his nudity? Was she his type? Did he have a type?

Heart sinking, Adriana didn’t bother to look at the girl or him. She didn’t want to know about Nathan Wynn’s private life. Nor would he ever know about hers and the paid escorts she used, including the kidnapper who surely stalked the hallways outside this office, waiting for her to emerge.

“Fine,” she said in answer to Nathan, groaning inwardly at the catch in her voice. She cleared her throat, left her seat and spoke to Steve. “Wind things up, will you?” Deliberately stepping around the table to avoid any contact with Nathan, Adriana stopped at the door and glanced back. Nathan regarded her ass and legs for a long moment. At last, he lifted his head. Several strands of hair bobbed over his surprisingly dark brows. His smile returned.

Her knees weakened. She locked them, overwhelmed by an insane urge to run her fingers through his hair, mussing it further as she drove her tongue into his mouth. Reality kept her rooted to her current spot. His smile had nothing to do with her as a woman. It recorded another of his conquests. She’d never stood a chance against his legal prowess, neither had Steve, and Nathan knew it. Adriana’s fingers gripped the doorknob. Unfortunately, her voice rang with longing. “Have a nice weekend. You earned it.”

Nathan’s brows lifted ever so slightly. “Should I take that as a compliment?”

His vibrant baritone matched his masculine bulk and enriched the sterilely decorated room, conjuring images of animal skins and leather, shoulder-length hair and a man’s uncivilized, insatiable appetite.

Without meaning to, she smiled. “You should.”

“Then I will, Adriana.”

A muscle in her belly jumped at how her name sounded wrapped in his resonant voice. Her hand loosened around the knob, not yet ready to open the door.

Steve cleared his throat. Impatiently, or perhaps jealously, Meghan tapped her pen against her legal pad.

She is sleeping with him. Fighting an envious sigh, Adriana opened the door. “Thanks for coming.”

Steve’s head jerked up. He seemed uncertain whether to snicker or frown. “We appreciate you getting through this so quickly,” he amended.

Adriana nodded to indicate that’s what she’d meant to say. Nathan ignored Steve and kept his full attention her. Why? What did he want now? “I have to go,” she said. Not waiting for his comment or goodbye, she hurried to her office.

There, she sagged against the door, trying to catch her breath. Should her kidnapper excite her even a sixteenth as much as Nathan did, she’d be in for the fuck of her life. However, if she found him wanting…

No, she wouldn’t consider such a thing. She’d enjoy the next three days if it killed her. On that happy thought, she went into her private bath, leaned toward the mirror and checked the scant makeup she wore. Crap. Her mascara had smeared, leaving dark smudges beneath her eyes. And she’d just about eaten off her mauve lipstick. With shaking hands, she fixed her face and considered undoing her bun. Her long, black hair reached halfway down her back, which made it her most striking feature. However, if her kidnapper-date thought so too, she wouldn’t have much else to wow him with once they were deep into her fantasy.

She left her hair pinned up and considered her gold-rimmed glasses. Should she put them back on or keep them off? She hadn’t worn them in her corporate photo she emailed the agency. Had she told the rep she’d wear them tonight so the escort would be certain to recognize her? Unable to recall details of what she’d said, Adriana sucked her lower lip until she remembered her freshly applied lipstick. Slipping her glasses back on, she peered over them, regarding her reflection. Her olive coloring and black hair resembled her father’s, who’d been of pure Greek descent. Her blue eyes matched her mother’s, who now lived in London with her fourth husband and their sons. Her look of anxiety belonged to her alone.

Eyes closed, she whispered, “Don’t do this to yourself. Have a good time. You deserve it.”

Partially convinced, she sprayed her throat, wrists, bra and thong with Gucci’s Envy Me, a Christmas present from her matronly secretary who mistakenly thought Adriana’s life rocked. The jasmine and peony scent wafted up, its fragrance mingling with the breath freshener she spritzed in her mouth. Her black silk trench coat, an impulse purchase for tonight, fell in soft lines over her charcoal business suit and sapphire silk blouse.

Her heart continued to pound.

Cell phone in hand, she speed-dialed Joe Malachi to let him know she wouldn’t need him for the next three days. Technically, Joe served as her live-in chef. She’d inherited him, along with Greco, Inc., after her father passed, since Joe had been her dad’s cook. To Adriana, he’d been the father she’d needed. When her parents divorced shortly after her fourth birthday and her mom took off for Europe to start a new life, Joe gave Adriana the love her dad could not. He’d listened to her incessant babbling and comforted her childhood hurts. He—not her dad or her mom—had helped pick out a dress for her middle-school dance and discussed whether she should go to Stanford, Harvard, Yale, Princeton or the school she really wanted to attend. She couldn’t have hoped for a better substitute father and owed him an explanation as to why she wouldn’t be returning to her Beverly Hills home until Tuesday.

Not that she would tell him the truth.

He picked up on the fourth ring. “Lizzie?”

Adriana smiled at the nickname Joe had given her as a little kid, claiming she’d been as demanding and imperious as England’s Queen Elizabeth. Thus, the moniker that evolved into Lizzie and turned into an endearment. It and his raspy voice relaxed her more quickly than a slug of bourbon. With him, she’d always felt loved and safe. If only she could meet a guy her age who’d want her around as he always seemed to. “Hey, Joe.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, no doubt hearing the edge in her voice. “You going to be later than usual tonight? Not waiting for her answer, his next question and comments came rapid-fire like a homicide investigator’s. “You having car trouble? Tell me you haven’t been in an accident. It’s raining out there.”

“Yeah, I know. And I haven’t crashed. I’m still at the office…but I won’t be coming home tonight or for the next three days.”

“Three days?” Something clanged in the background. Most likely a skillet he’d put on the range. “Is that jerk union lawyer keeping you there?”

She wished. Nathan’s thoughts were surely on his upcoming night with Meghan as soon as Steve wrapped things up. “No. We’ve agreed to the union’s terms and they agreed to ours. I just thought…” She panicked, not knowing what excuse to give him for her extended absence, and then the perfect explanation popped into her head. “I’m going to treat myself at a spa. You know, a mini-vacation for the holiday weekend. I thought I deserved it.”

“You know you do,” he agreed readily. “You work too hard. You never have any fun.”

Tonight she would. If the Goddess of Lust smiled down on her, this would be one three-day weekend she’d never forget. Her face warmed. “I’ll keep my cell phone on if you need me.”

“Just tell me the name of the place. That’ll be good enough.”

A bead of sweat rolled from her temple to her jaw. She paced the length of her office, decorated efficiently and unimaginatively in chrome and leather. “It’s Beautiful something. I can’t recall. One of the VPs told me about it. My secretary arranged for them to pick me up. If you need me, call my cell, all right?”

“You gonna be okay?”

Her eyes closed. He knew she’d lied. “Sure.”

“You need me for anything, you call, understand?” His voice softened further. “I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears stung the corners of her eyes. She murmured, “I know. I’ll see you late Monday.”

“Or before if you want. Okay?”

Afraid she’d blurt the truth about this weekend and cause him even more concern, or disappoint him because she hired lovers, she mumbled a quick ‘sure’, ended the call and grabbed her oversized purse. Inside, she’d put custom-made lingerie from a Parisian couturier, another indulgence like her coat. She’d also packed mascara, lipstick and her Gucci perfume. Everything she needed, except boundless confidence, to embark on her newest fantasy. The longest she’d ever committed to. In the past, she’d only indulged in a few hours with escorts, pretending they were either a marauding pirate who’d taken over her ship or an escaped prisoner who hadn’t mounted a woman in far too long. Never had she spent the entire night with any of the men.

Again, uncertainty gripped her as she left her office and entered the building’s public hallway. Foolishly, she’d told the service to choose tonight’s lover so she’d be surprised, just like in a real kidnapping. At the time, Adriana thought it would add an element of danger and excitement to her building sexual tension.

How right she’d been.

Dimly lit halls led to the bank of elevators nearest the street-level garage where she’d parked. The path stretched endlessly and veered around too many blind corners. She passed locked offices with darkened windows, the door plaques stating one belonged to a wholesale distributor, another to an exporter, the next to an office temp agency and beyond it a group of CPAs. Although it wasn’t yet seven, the staff for these companies must have decided to get a head start on the holiday weekend. At the first intersection, Adriana entered the new hallway and stopped. About twenty yards ahead, a man headed toward her. A stranger she’d never seen here before.

Tall and young, probably in his late twenties, he wore an expensive business suit that fit his lean frame superbly. With his assured advance, his eyes met hers.

Adriana’s heart beat out of time. She didn’t notice his features or the color of his hair. She saw only a blur of motion, him coming closer, closer, closer. Her mind asked, Are you the one? Her lips refused to part and say the words.

She stared in fear and arousal. Her thoughts ran wild, playing images of him pushing her against the damask wallpaper, barking an order and capturing her mouth, tearing her blouse and bra open to expose her breasts.

A whimper rose in her throat. Her sharp intake of breath interrupted it. She caught a hint of cologne. His? A woodsy fragrance, it reminded her of Aspen prior to the first snow. Not as masculine or arousing as Nathan’s but nice nonetheless.

Alternately softening to her need for human closeness and warmth and tensing with apprehension, she waited for him to make his move.

His steps continued to slow. Taking in her face and length, he gave her an odd look as though she wore new mascara smudges beneath her eyes. He passed without the words she expected to hear or a savage kiss.

Adriana’s heart refused to slow. She turned. At a brisk pace, he went around the corner, fleeing from view. Nearly breathless and certainly confused, she rested her shoulder against the wall and wondered if he’d be coming back. Maybe part of his act meant pretending he didn’t desire her. His behavior would give her a false sense of security and would make the actual kidnapping even more outrageous and delicious.

Unable to stand the suspense, she returned to the intersection and glanced down the hall. Empty. He must have slipped into the men’s room or hid in the stairwell to confuse her further. Unless he’d gone into one of the darkened offices because he belonged there, not with her.

Torn as to whether she should wait him out or continue, Adriana settled on the latter course and went down the next hallway, periodically stealing glances over her shoulder. The young man didn’t follow. Her pulse slowed. Vague irritation at having to wait coursed through her, along with her ever-present longing. She reached a new corner and turned into it. Halfway down the hall, a man about her age stood at a closed office door, looking at his watch.

His broad shoulders and large frame made him escort material. Dark hair, beard-shadowed cheeks and a look of impatience fit Adriana’s image of a pretend-kidnapper. Like the first guy she’d encountered, this man was a stranger.

He’d either heard her approach or sensed her presence. Head lifting from his watch, he met her eyes.

Her stomach twisted with anticipation. The rest of her couldn’t move. She waited for him to say the words she’d given the agency, a command to let her know he’d be spending the weekend with her.

He called out, “Do you have the correct time?”

Unfortunately, those weren’t the words. Her heart sank. Lifting her arm to check her watch, she noticed her shaking fingers and made a fist to hide her nervousness. Her blouse’s thin fabric wiggled with her quick, shallow breaths. “Five to seven.”

“Thanks.” He rapped the door three times and frowned as he waited for a response.

As she passed him, Adriana glanced at the plaque. It bore the name of a mortgage company about to go belly up.

The man muttered, “Stupid prick better show his face.”

Her thoughts exactly. Where in the hell was her guy? She walked backward down the hall, expecting him to be at the other end, rounding the corner. The only one to notice her happened to be the guy at the door. He gave her a weird look and called out, “Do you work at this place?” He advanced several steps. “Is Rivera your boss?”

She shook her head and pointed behind herself. “My husband’s waiting for me.”

“Would that be Rivera?”

“No.” She pulled out her cell phone to fake a call to her nonexistent spouse or to 9-1-1.

The guy stopped advancing. He returned to the door and pounded on it with the heel of his hand.

Adriana escaped to the next hall. Ahead, she saw the bank of elevators with no one waiting for them or her. Could the agency have gotten the date wrong? Hadn’t they been able to find any guy to spend three days with her? If so, they would have emailed their apology, right? So he had to be here, unless he’d gotten in an accident because of the rain. Shoulders slumping, she punched the down button. While waiting for the elevator to arrive, she went to the fire exit, hoping to see her escort hiding inside. Emptiness and a blast of cold air greeted her, along with an unpleasant musty odor reminiscent of rain or a wet, dirty dog. The elevator dinged.

The doors parted. A muscular, thirty-something man leaned against the back rail. He wore khaki slacks and a short-sleeved shirt with the name Ramon embroidered on the pocket. A tool belt hung low on his lean hips. Below it, he sported an impressive bulge. Adriana’s eyes jumped from it to his broad chest, full mouth and piercing black eyes. His shaved head and the small gold hoop in his right ear completed the picture, making him dangerous, seductive, hers?

Had to be.

What had she gotten herself into? He looked capable of devouring her. A good thing, given her lonely nights and mounting desire. . .a daunting proposition given they didn’t know each other. On a hard swallow, she edged into the space and leaned against the wall to his left. His attention remained ahead on the still-parted doors. Was he waiting for them to close so he could give her his scripted command, or did he simply enjoy making her wait for the inevitable so she’d want it even more?

Her eyes trailed down him, noting the ornate tattoo on his wrist of a stylized sun. It looked oddly menacing. She dragged her attention away, shifting it to the doors. They remained opened. Her heart skipped several beats at what would happen when they closed finally. Ramon would approach and bark a ruthless order. His hand would be on her throat, keeping her head still so he could claim her mouth. With his body imprisoning hers, the meaty bulge behind his fly would promise pleasure, passion and her submission.

Heat poured through Adriana, wilting her shoulders. Expectation weakened her legs. She gripped the railing with both hands, requiring the support. Something pinged, the sound metal makes as it becomes chilled. She flinched with the sound. On a subdued whoosh, the doors began to close.

Adriana’s heart pounded wildly. She turned her head to glance at Ramon, then brought it back at the unexpected movement in her peripheral vision. A hand snuck around the side of the right door, keeping it from closing.

She stared at the fingers, long with blunt tips. The doors hesitated and opened. She forgot to breathe.

Nathan moved inside the small space, abbreviating it even more with his height. His imposing presence made Ramon as inconsequential as a kid brother. The edge of Nathan’s briefcase tapped the door. His head lifted from it to her legs.

Unbearable need slithered through Adriana. Her toes tried to curl in her high heels. Her mind whispered a truth she didn’t want to face. She wanted Nathan, not Ramon or any of the agency’s other studs. Too bad, good sense answered. Nathan wanted Meghan on his menu, not her. Foolishly jealous, Adriana glanced around him, expecting to see the young woman trailing behind as she always did.

The hall remained empty. The doors closed. Jerking slightly, the elevator began its downward journey with only her and Nathan.

Before Adriana got too smug and smiled, she reminded herself his bed play had nothing to do with her. Meghan had probably stopped in the ladies’ room to freshen up or to remove her underwear, promising to meet him at his car.

Adriana glanced at the buttons on the elevator’s control panel, realizing she hadn’t punched the one for the parking garage. Neither had he. Only the one for the fifth floor glowed. Why? Suddenly, she remembered Ramon. Had he punched the button for five? Whatever would possess him to do so? What could be waiting for them there? She’d told the agency they’d be taking her car to the hotel and the penthouse suite she’d rented for the weekend. Surely Ramon knew that, unless he’d wanted to catch her off guard and take her in the stairwell…or he wasn’t her guy.

The thought should have daunted. Too easily, Adriana brushed it aside, her attention fixed on Nathan.

His head inched up her sheer black stockings to her coat, skirt and blouse, his journey unhurried. He didn’t give a damn if she noticed. As a male, he owned the right to regard her at his leisure. At her eyes, he lingered. Surprise and something more flashed across his ruggedly masculine face. An invitation that urged her to cross the small space and join him. A promise of pleasure as intoxicating as his scent and the hint of male musk beneath it.

With the suddenness of a stolen kiss, he smiled…a playful grin, personal, disconcerting, enticing. “Adriana.” Her name and his strong voice lingered in the compact car.

Helplessly, she smiled at the sounds and the man. “Nathan.”

He crossed over to her side, glancing away only to punch the button for the garage.

His proximity and size overwhelmed. Her knuckles hurt from squeezing the railing too tightly. Turning to her, he tempered his voice as if he didn’t want Ramon privy to what he said. “I thought you’d already left.”

She watched his broad chest expand with his quiet breathing. His navy wool topcoat matched the twilight shades of his suit and silk tie. Eyes edging up to his mouth, her attention lost in the faint stubble on his upper lip, she answered, “I thought you were still with Steve and Meghan.”

He didn’t respond immediately.

She met his thickly lashed brown eyes, as sinful as dark chocolate, as seductive as a caress. “Did you change your mind?”

The corners of mouth lifted with his broadening smile. “About what?”

Sleeping with Meghan. Not about to voice her thoughts, Adriana searched for a logical answer. Miraculously, she found it. “The terms of the contract.” Is that why he’d left her offices? Had something gone awry during the wrap up? Would he be back after the long holiday weekend? Would she be able to see him again? No matter how much money her company would lose with his newest negotiations, Adriana couldn’t help her budding excitement. “Surely Steve didn’t finish things so quickly.”

Ramon cleared his throat. Nathan glanced over, the ends of his hair skimming his much darker brows. Adriana held onto the railing for dear life so she wouldn’t reach up and brush his stray locks back.

Nathan returned his attention to her. “No, I haven’t changed my mind on the terms. And Steve isn’t finished. Meghan’s with him and prepared to spend the night until everything’s settled.”

Surprised, Adriana blurted, “You don’t mind?”

“About them doing the work?” He leaned close enough for her to smell a hint of coffee on his breath. “Better Meghan and Steve than you and me.”

You and me. Her heart made those words sound as hopeful as I want you.

Get real, her thoughts taunted. If he wasn’t spending tonight with Meghan, he’d indulge himself with another woman, one of countless females who’d be delighted to participate in and submit to whatever he craved. Perhaps domination and submission, bondage, a bit of corporal punishment.

The possibilities whirled so quickly in Adriana’s mind, she lowered her head to stop her lightheadedness."