I'm so excited that Serving Him: Sexy Stories of Submission will be in my hands in just over two weeks, and then mailed off to my amazing Amazon reviewers and off to the tables at Barnes & Noble. I've edited various submission themed anthologies (and right now am taking submissions for the very wide open book of 69 1,200 words or less stories!), and this one is especially dear to me, because I think it goes deeper and more intensely into some of the aspects of kink I most appreciate. If you like it, please like Serving Him on Amazon (yes, we got to 100, but I'd love to keep going). Previous excerpts: "Run, Baby, Run" by Vida Bailey, "The Letter" by Tiffany Reisz part 1 and part 2, "Under Direction" by Teresa Noelle Roberts, "Chattel" by Errica Liekos, "The Coffee Break" by Kristina Wright, "What You Deserve" by Lori Selke and "Subbing" by me.
"Tackling Jessica" by Maxine MarshIf you liked this excerpt, please do like Serving Him on Amazon, where you can also pre-order it. You can also pre-order it from Bn.com. Kindle and Nook editions coming soon. THANK YOU!
“I want you to tackle me.”
I frowned, trying to make it seem like the idea sounded crazy to me. Truly, the thought turned me on. I’d gotten pretty warmed up rolling around on the floor with her. Holding back the bulk of my strength when we played left me on edge. The muscles in my arms and legs were antsy to get some more action. I was already planning to go and run a few miles after I left her place.
“I want to feel what you were talking about before. About the moment. I want to feel that.” She was earnest and direct, and it was sexy as hell.
“I could hurt you.”
I looked at her. She somehow seemed amused and serious, at the same time.
She gave a little. “Okay, let’s go in the bedroom. You can tackle me onto the bed.”
I followed her to the back of her apartment, into a dark room. The shades were drawn. A small table lamp lit the room dimly from the night table next to her big, unmade bed. Her room was simple: a big bed, made up with comfortable-looking white bedding, a large dark-hued headboard and a big dresser made from matching wood. I was surprised not to see anything particularly girly. The faint smell of orchids in the air was the only feminine aspect of the room.
She went and pulled the comforter off the mattress and threw it onto the floor at the foot of the bed.
I stood in the doorway, feeling like I was on the edge of her little, private world. She positioned herself by the side of the bed, bit her lip and then looked at me. “Okay, go.”
“Wait,” I said.
“You’re serious about this?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Getting tackled isn’t like getting pushed over or something. It’s like getting hit. Really.”
She frowned at me. “I didn’t take you for such a pussy.”