SPRING BREAK by Kathy Kulig

SPRING BREAK - A Exotika Story by Kathy Kulig

Spring break beyond your wildest fantasies? If Justin Watkins can stop watching over his college students like Big Brother, he might convince the prim-and-proper Mariko Maguire to be his sex partner at the invitation-only adult club called TropiX.

Mariko is in Fort Lauderdale on business, trying to secure new clients for her PR firm. Abandoning prior commitments for one wickedly lustful evening - a one-night stand of kinky sex - was not on her agenda.

Carter Bosworth is looking for an evening of sex games during his layover in the tropical playground. He's a regular at TropiX and always open for a new thrill. His plans are sidetracked, but it may be to his benefit after all when he meets the beautiful Mariko.

The potent heat developing between Justin and Mariko tempts her into shedding her inhibitions, and an exploration in eroticism beyond her imagination develops at the fetish club.

 

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site. <><> <><> <><> An Excerpt From: SPRING BREAK Copyright © KATHY KULIG, 2012 All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. Mariko Maguire sat at the tiny patio table along Fort Lauderdale Strip fanning herself with an oversized postcard she’d found on the table. She managed to grab the seat the moment the couple clad in bikini and surfer shorts left. Calypso music blared from the Tiki bar as crowds of young people sipped frozen drinks and beer, munching on onion rings, raw mussels and clams. Scanning the group of spring breakers where everyone was dressed in bathing suits or T-shirts and shorts, Mariko noticed they were all at least twelve years younger than she. A twinge of regret hit her as she listened to the laughter and observed the young men and women flirting and having a good time. She’d missed her spring break in college. If she had gone with her friends that year instead of working would her life have been any different? She was the only fool wearing a business suit and heels. What had her boss been thinking to plan a conference during spring break? Thank God, she chose to do without the pantyhose this morning. She only hoped the physicians in her seminar—all men except for one woman—didn’t think her unprofessional for not wearing stockings. Screw it, this was South Florida. One more lecture and she would join the young kids in a bathing suit and hit the pool, maybe the ocean. Wow, were they really college aged? They looked so young. Or was she getting old? Thirty-four wasn’t old, she tried convincing herself. She envied the carefree looks on their faces and wondered how many were involved in a summer romance, experiencing the passionate exhilaration of a brief affair, knowing it would be over when classes started. Even promises of “we’ll keep in touch” or “we’ll find a way to see each other” never happened, or so she’d heard. What would she give to have had that heated spontaneity just once? After a divorce was there any spontaneity in dating anymore? Maybe she expected too much. A young woman in a skimpy bikini leaned against a handsome guy at the bar. His hands roamed over her hips and slid dangerously close to skimming her breasts. His thigh was planted between her slim legs and she dry humped him with the slightest movement. Mariko grew hotter in the ninety-degree heat and her pussy gave a twitch, responding to the sensual display. God, she was horny. The thought of having a man running his hands over her while she was half naked—better yet, completely naked—was turning her on. She would enjoy a naked dip in the pool with cool water caressing her skin, while a man massaged her breasts, touched her pussy and stimulated her clit. Touch me here, lower, harder, slip a finger inside me, pinch my nipples, yes, like that… He’d obey each command, pleasuring her in all ways. Mariko released a long exhale, her body tingling from her thoughts. Only in my dreams. Mariko shifted in her seat and averted her eyes from the couple’s public display. She noticed a few guys around the bar had also begun watching them. Maybe they liked being watched. The throbbing in her pussy increased and her nipples tightened. Damn, after the seminar she was stripping out of her suit, getting into her bathing suit and taking a long, exhausting swim in the ocean. She sighed. Where was the waiter with her virgin piña colada? She’d skipped the alcohol since she was giving the afternoon lecture. If the last lecture went anything like the morning one, maybe she should add the rum. These doctors were tough. She wouldn’t be surprised if she went home without one new client. Why did her company decide to plan a conference during spring break? Was she the only one not on spring break here? The bar was four rows deep and she doubted she’d ever see the bartender again, but if she got up, she’d lose the table. Forget about ordering food, she didn’t have time. A hint of a sea breeze drifted in off the ocean and she lifted her face to capture every bit of coolness. She opened her blouse by two buttons and pulled the silk material away from her breasts. Her plum lace bra showed a bit, but who cared with all this half-naked flesh walking around? No one was noticing the older thirty-something sitting at a table by herself. She fanned inside her blouse, but the small postcard did little to cool her off. Glancing at the card, she read TropiX Exclusive Lifestyle Impressions, by invitation only. Applications accepted at: There was a website address and no other contact information. The card was plain, shaded in gray, black and white with silhouetted palm trees, with a couple embracing between the trees. She flipped the card over but it was blank. She frowned. The bartender arrived with her drink. He, too, looked about fourteen. “Like to charge it to your room, ma’am?” Ma’am? God, do I look that old? “Sure, thanks.” She held up the card. “Do you know what this is?” The bartender gave her a half smirk and a dark look. “Private sex club.” “Strip club?” “No, sex club. People meet at the club to have sex. Pretty upscale place.” She tried not to sound shocked. “Ah, I’ve heard of them.” Sort of. “Ever go?” Heat rushed to her face and her pulse kicked up several beats. Images of a room filled with a dozen or so people engaged in one giant orgy. Hands of several men touching her intimately at the same time, what would that be like? What kinds of people go to places like that? Would she ever have sex with more than one man at the same time? Never. She felt slick and damp between her legs, and surprisingly aroused by the thought of participating in such an experience. Must be the heat. “No, I’ve heard people talk about it. Why, do you want to go?” the bartender asked. She shrugged. Probably not. Was she being old fashioned? She wanted to keep up with the times, but this was a bit extreme. “I don’t know. Might be interesting.” She signed the check, then sipped her drink. “Interesting? I could think of a few other words for TropiX.” The bartender seemed amused.

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TIDINGS OF FEAR by Ericka Scott

TIDINGS OF FEAR by Ericka Scott

A psychic, a skeptic, and a serial killer...

Psychic Lia Morgan sees portents all around her. Although estranged from her family, she joins the search for her missing sister. A simple case gets complicated fast when she discovers her sister's plethora of secrets includes a son.

Professor Jared Trimble's world has no room for paranormal mumbo-jumbo. When asked to consult on a case involving a series of crossword puzzles, he's conflicted. Is he a suspect, or an investigator?

While Lia uses her physic gift and follows signs, Jared uses his wits and experience. When the two collide, passions flare and the final clue brings them both into the bull's-eye of a serial killer's target.


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Copyright 2011, Ericka Scott
All rights reserved, Lyrical Press, Inc,


Jared put his hand on Lia’s shoulder. Its warmth seemed the only heat in the room.

The officer put his pen down and looked at her with narrowed eyes and a grim expression. She shivered.

“No, I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to call you. Do you know where Sylvie’s partner Margaret is?”

Confused, Lia shook her head. “I tried to call her earlier.”

“Please call her again.”

“Sure.” Lia pulled her phone out and punched in Margaret’s phone number.

“Put it on speaker, please.” The officer snapped.

The call went straight to voice mail.

“Then it’s not only our calls she’s avoiding,” he murmured.

“We don’t understand.” Jared said. “Has there been a new lead?”

The officer’s expression darkened, and Lia felt her eyes well up with tears. Oh God, Sylvie was dead.

“No.”

“Then, why--” Lia began.

“We have reason to believe your sister voluntarily disappeared with her son to avoid appearing in court.”

“Court?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

Lia pursed her lips. “I already told one of your officers that I haven’t had contact with my sister for seven years. Honestly, I didn’t even know she’d had a baby.”

“Well, seems the father of the child is suing for custody.”

“Custody?” Lia felt stupid echoing back the officer’s words, but she didn’t know what else to say. She’d assumed that the baby had been the result of in vitro fertilization, or whatever method of conception most gay couples used.

“Yes, she and Deion were to appear in order to obtain a DNA sample to prove Mr. Kyle Creswell’s paternity.”

Lia’s mind went numb.

“We suspect your sister disappeared voluntarily to avoid that event. It’s doubly suspicious that her partner is also missing.”

Lia swallowed, hard.

“You think this is a staged disappearance. A hoax?” Jared stated.

“Yes, we do.”

“Oh my,” was all Lia could say. Could Sylvie have simply run away, leaving everything--her house, car, business and valuables--behind? It didn’t seem like something her sister would do, but did she really know Sylvie anymore?

“We can no longer dedicate men and resources to investigating the disappearance. Unless new information comes in, we really have no choice but to close the case.”

“I see,” Lia said, her voice sounding small and unsure to her own ears.

“But what if she didn’t disappear voluntarily?” Jared asked.

The officer’s gaze softened a bit. “I’m sorry. I know this must be difficult for you, especially since you traveled all this way.”

Lia started to stand, but Jared’s hand held her down. He didn’t seem ready to admit defeat. “If we turn up something that indicates she didn’t disappear of her own accord--”

“Then, by all means, give us a call. But honestly, I don’t think that evidence exists.”

At that moment, the lights in the station flickered and went out.

The officer cursed. “Stay here, and I’ll go see if one of those damned reporters plugged too many cameras in out front and blew a fuse.”

Then, just as suddenly as they went out, the lights came back on. Lia’s eyes were drawn to the alarm clock sitting on the officer’s credenza. The time flashed on and off. The clock displayed all eights.

Lia shivered. She didn’t have an ounce of evidence to support her belief that Sylvie hadn’t disappeared voluntarily, she simply knew. If the police weren’t going to be out looking for her, that meant she had to find Sylvie.

As if reading her mind, Jared bent over, and murmured softly, “Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”

She wished she could be so sure.

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EMBRACE THE NIGHT by Alexandra Kane

EMBRACE THE NIGHT by Alexandra Kane

John Groves is a professor of World History in Raleigh by day. But outside the world of academia, he uses his special talents as a telekinetic to fight crime as a member of PHOENIX.

Tatiana Yates owns a beauty shop in downtown Durham. After leaving the hot curlers and shampoo bowl behind, she releases the tigress within, running free in the forests around RTP. And ripping the bad guys a new one as a seasoned PHOENIX operative.

When the two are paired together to solve the mysterious disappearance of priceless artifacts from the North Carolina's Museum of History, can they fight their fiery attraction long enough to get the job done?

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Sam Richardson reclined at his desk in the security office, feet propped on the oak desk top, arms folded behind his head. The night shift guarding the artifacts at the North Carolina Museum of History had never been exciting, but tonight he struggled just to keep his eyes open. A little excitement would go a long way towards helping him stay awake, but he knew it wasn't likely. Blowing out a  long breath, he tried to push his exhaustion away, but failed.

            He could feel his heavy eyelids sliding closed.

            WHIRRRR!

            The sound of one of the entry alarms blaring shocked him awake. Leaping to his feet, he studied the wall of monitors broadcasting the security camera footage. Gaze flicking from screen to screen, he stopped on the center monitor.

            With great confusion and raised eyebrows, he watched the glass case that held Sir Walter Raleigh's coat of arms shatter, without any evidence of it being struck. Then, he stared at the centuries old piece of fabric simply floated across the exhibit room, and out of one of the museum's side entrances.

            Plopping down in his chair, Sam ran his hand over his weary eyes. Then, he said aloud, "Either that really happened, or I'm seeing things. Either way, I need a new job."

            Within two hours, his supervisor came in to relieve him. Lauren walked into the office, black security coat slung over one arm, with her  bright red NC State Wolfpack mug in her other hand. Seeing the look on his face, she asked, "What's the deal, Sam?"

            He looked at the mug. "Had your coffee yet?"

            She nodded. "A few sips. Why?"

            He moved to the devices that stored the digital security footage, and rewound the data  to the point when the alarms went off. "Take a look at this," he said, gesturing to the monitors."

            Then he sat back and watched her react to the footage.

            Eyes glue to the screen, she dropped her coffee mug. The plastic clattered on the linoleum floor, the dark liquid pooling around her feet. She didn't even notice. "Holy shit, Sam. What the hell was that?"

            "Your guess is as good as mine."

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JUST WHAT THE DOCTOR ORDERED by J.M. Snyder

JUST WHAT THE DOCTOR ORDERED by J.M. Snyder

Curt, a college professor, lives with his lover of several years, a pediatrician of Chinese descent named Lee. Eager to write, he receives a grant to take the summer off and work on a novel. Then Lee's mother calls -- she wants to visit. Curt is eager to meet her but Lee isn't so sure ... she's of a different generation, a different culture even, and doesn’t speak much English. Still, Curt insists.

But when Mrs. Gui arrives, Curt finds himself struggling with writer’s block. He feels like an outsider in his own home when Lee and his mother converse in Cantonese, leaving him out of the conversation, and even his sex life suffers with her in the bedroom next to theirs. Can Curt and Mrs. Gui move past their cultural differences to see that they both love Lee and have his best interests at heart?

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EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.



By the time Lee returned I was already relaxing in the hot tub, head back, eyes closed, clothes gone, the water warm and welcome on my bare skin. The plates sat on a towel I had spread within reach, the steaks done to perfection, the shrimp still sizzling on the skewers. Red wine winked in our glasses, the champagne saved for later. I had no intention of leaving the water until absolutely necessary -- I planned on eating right where I was, leaning over the side of the tub if I had to.

When I heard the sliding door squeal faintly over the soothing sounds of Kenny G's soprano sax, I let myself sink a little further into the water, until the bubbles tickled my chin. "Well?" I asked with a slow smile. I heard the solid thud of a belt buckle hitting the floor and opened one eye to see my lover undressing by the side of the tub. "That your mom?"

"Yeah." His pants bunched at his ankles as he unbuttoned his dress shirt. In the last of the sunlight slipping through the blinds around us, his skin took on an olive tone, dark and exotic. His hair stood up in defiant clumps as if he had run his hands through it again and again while on the phone, something he always did when he was nervous or upset.

That bedraggled look told me more about the call than the forced smile on his face or the worried look in his eyes. "Everything alright?" I asked, concerned.

Kicking away his pants, he shrugged off his shirt and dropped it at his feet. The cuff of one sleeve brushed over the wine glasses before falling away. "Fine," he told me, but the way he didn't quite meet my gaze told me he knew I knew better. He hooked his thumbs into his briefs and, with the complete lack of modesty only a seasoned lover could feel, pushed them down his legs. He stepped out of them and into the hot tub, the steam beading on his body like sweat as he sank down until the water covered his slim shoulders. "She's fine," he murmured, gliding towards me.

Beneath the water, I felt his hand on my knee. It slid up my thigh as he closed the distance between us, but I caught it before it could tangle in the kinked hair at my crotch. "That's dessert," I told him. He laughed and let me reel him in, and I kissed his jaw as he sat down beside me. I wanted to take his mind off whatever his mother might have said and get it back where it belonged ... on me. So with a nod at the plates, I said, "Your dinner's getting cold."

"Yours too." He swam around me and pulled the towel with our plates on it a little closer to the tub. I watched his hands as he cut the steaks with sure movements, even and unhurried. In their calm I sensed a guarded wariness as if he had something on his mind and didn't want to ruin my evening with it. "So," he said, the knife working effortlessly. "Now when people ask what you do for a living, you can say you're a full-time writer. No, full-time author. By this time next year, Oprah will be knocking down our door to get a piece of you."

I laughed. Sidling up behind him, I wrapped my arms around his waist and let my fingers play against his inner thighs. An inch or two higher and ... the steak he was so carefully cutting wasn't the only thing I wanted to swallow down. "She can't have me yet," I teased. Like two pieces of a complex puzzle, our bodies locked together perfectly, the cleft of his buttocks fitting nicely against my hardening shaft. I kissed the nape of his neck and tasted sweat and chlorine. "Tonight I'm all yours."

"Didn't you say this was dessert?" Lee asked, wiggling his hips back into me.

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