Last day for $1.99 erotic romance sale plus watch the sexy kissing book trailer and read hot stories
Today is the final day of the Passion erotic romance $1.99 sale so if you want 20 sexy stories, get them now for Kindle, Nook, Google Play or Kobo (it's already back to regular price on iTunes though, sorry!).
Since the sale is ending shortly, make sure to check the price before buying and I will post when there's another sale up on my books! (In other sale news, sometimes my print book prices drop drastically and then change quickly. It's hard to tell when or why this happens so I do try to spread the word and right now, as of this posting, you can get Best Bondage Erotica 2011 in print for under $6, if either of those are your cup of tea or you want to get someone a kinky gift.)
Whether you take advantage of the sale or not, I wanted to share the book trailer and five sexy passages from the book. It is National Masturbation Month, after all!
The kissing-filled book trailer. So many memories!
Here's a few sexy passages I particularly enjoyed:
From "My Dark Knight" by Jacqueline Applebee
“You must think I’m weird, but I’m really into the whole reenactment scene.”
“I don’t think you’re weird, it’s just a bit unexpected,” I explained, but Omar looked at me warily. “I just never believed I’d meet a knight in shining armor.” It was true, I’d heard of reenactment fans, but I’d always pictured them as geeky white boys running around a field, hitting each other with wooden swords. “Hey, are you a black knight?” I asked jokingly.
Omar rolled his eyes, although he still smiled. “Sure I am. Why do you think they called it the Dark Ages?” I hit his arm playfully as he continued. “The armor is European, but there were plenty of knights in Africa; the ancient kingdom of Bornu and Sokoto had armored soldiers on horseback who were feared throughout the land.” He closed the distance between us as his voice dropped. “But I like the whole age of chivalry, the romance and the adventure that English knights embodied,” he murmured against me. “My fair princess,” he whispered, and then no more words were said as we kissed. Everything I had ever dreamt about Omar was eclipsed as his adventurous mouth pressed against mine. His tongue touched me, swept over my teeth and sucked on my lips. I found myself making contented noises as he held me tight. This was better than any fantasy I could have.
I felt the heat of the evening as Omar’s hands stroked my back. I felt sweaty, a little disheveled but completely wonderful. I pulled off my top and stepped out of my shoes. Omar looked lovingly at my breasts before he kissed first one and then the other through the lace of my bra. He then dragged his T-shirt off, messing up his short hair as he did. I wondered briefly what he must look like wearing the armor.
“Bed,” he whispered urgently. I nodded my head.
Omar held me about the waist, and then he shocked the life out of me as he lifted me up and put me over his shoulder. The whole room seemed to tip upside down as I was carried bodily to the bedroom.
Omar carefully let me down, and I lay giggling and panting on top of the bed. I shuffled out of my skirt and watched as Omar pulled down his trousers. I’ve seen a naked man before, but as Omar disrobed, I suddenly felt incredibly shy. He was so visibly turned on that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his cock.
“I’ve got some protection,” he said shyly. “I didn’t want to assume, but I thought it best.” Omar opened his hand and produced a little foil packet. He may have enjoyed being a knight of old, but he was a thoroughly modern man.
Omar clutched at my backside. “I’ve been longing to feel this,” he said, giving my bum a squeeze. “I’ve wanted to stroke it, lick it and spank it,” he said with a hoarse voice. I was completely surprised at his admission; I’d never thought my backside was anything special. I’d certainly never had anyone want to spank it before.
“You can, if you like,” I whispered, nervously looking up at him. “You can spank me.”
From "The Silver Belt" by Lana Fox
Now here she was in the silver belt that both kept her and frustrated her. The cord around her wrists dug blissfully deep and as she rolled onto her back, the silver belt groaned, its weight like a metal collar, its links gripping her through the open dress. She raised a leg, which burst more buttons, and flexed her foot inside the stiletto. Candlelight danced across her body as Art returned to her side, half-undressed, his chest now dark and bare. Kneeling, he circled her ankle with the whole of his hand and drew it away, opening her thighs. He knelt between her knees, his eyes flicking across her body, and, in a soft growl, explained that he would fuck her until she could take no more: “…until you’ve had your fill.”
Then, in sudden frenzy and without touching the belt, he began to tear the dress from her, his swelling biceps tightening as he worked, his skin gleaming as the candlelight swept across him. Soon she was half-bare in black silk lingerie edged with lace, and stockings teamed with garter belt and stilettos. He raised her bound wrists high above her head and, rubbing her nipple beneath the black silk so it pressed against the pad of his thumb, he fell on her, biting her shoulder, her neck and the cleavage that swelled from the delicate lace. He unzipped himself and fell on her wildly, entering her so swiftly that she cried out, pleading for his frenzy. Suddenly he was rutting with the power of a lion, telling her through shuddery breath that he’d often seen her in the store and had dreamed of possessing her many times but he’d held back because of the ring on her finger, glinting there, like a trap. “What changed your mind?” she asked.
“I couldn’t bear how sad you looked.”
The silver belt leapt on her waist as his body lunged against it, again and again, and with her bound wrists raised above her head, he pulled out of her, groaning and fell on her breasts, peeling back the lacy cups of her bra. “You’re exquisite,” he whispered, licking her nipple with the flat of his tongue. She glanced down at his dark, muscular back, where the skin was glossed with perspiration, then at her saliva-streaked breast, and she felt a wonderful burn in her pussy.
“Take me,” she pleaded. She strained at her ropes, longing to touch her clit, but this only caused them to dig more deeply.
From "Lingua Franca" by Justine ElyotRead these stories in full plus 17 more sexy tales in Passion: Erotic Romance for Women (of course male readers are more than welcome!). Right now it's only $1.99 for Kindle, Nook, Google Play or Kobo but you can also get Passion in print and audiobook form.
Instantly I am caught up in his embrace once more, my legs held up by his in case they give way, which is not unlikely. He walks me backward, painstakingly, until I fall onto one of the red plush sofas, and then he is looming over me, one hand next to my head, preventing my escape, and the other takes hold of my white uniform blouse and rips it open. A pearl button pings onto a nearby table and I gasp, part thrilled and part outraged. “Karel!”
“I sew it,” he grins, then his head is down there, his hair brushing my throat while he explores my cleavage with the full force of his lips and tongue. His hand works busily at my other buttons, undoing them in a less destructive way, until my lace bra is exposed to him, and his stubble prickles downward, seeking out the overspill of my breasts.
He lures my nipples out of the cups using the tip of his tongue, licking and sucking, taking his time, savoring the flavor. I plant my fingers in his hair, which is reddish-brown and falls over his brow, plentiful and sometimes a little lank. I stroke and knead automatically, my wits absent, all of me concentrated at my nerve endings, especially those between my legs.
He seems to understand instinctively that attention is needed there. He lays me down along the length of the sofa, pulling off my skirt and burying his face in my belly while his fingers stray down beyond the elastic waistband of my knickers. They almost dance, they are so light and nimble. I arch my back and squirm, inviting him to increase the pressure and move on downward, but he loves to tease me and watch my expression as it grows more frantic with need, laughing softly, looking up at me through the valley of my breasts. “Touch me,” I gasp.