Showing posts with label Married Couple. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Married Couple. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

FOR BEN by Kate Richards

FOR BEN by Kate Richards

Corbin's Bend Book 6

Roy Simms is about to make full partner in a big NYC law firm. His wife, Teri, assures him that once they reach their career goals, they can relax and enjoy life...maybe even consider starting a family. He’s not sure how much longer their marriage can survive if they don’t make time for one another. One evening of passion and spanking makes him ache for the connection they’ve almost lost.

Teri Simms doesn’t understand why Roy needs so much prodding to reach for the stars. With his education and talent, he should be senior partner long since. But he’ll get there. Her own vice presidency occurred only five years into her tenure with the financial firm, and if it takes seventeen hours a day and most of her weekends, so be it. Roy will just have to continue to be understanding.

A phone call from a stranger will change everything. This two-job-no-kids couple is a family, due to the tragic death of Teri’s sister and brother in law. They must fly immediately to Corbin’s Bend, Colorado and take charge of little Ben, almost four years old. The change of scene brings to the forefront everything good and bad about their marriage. It’s time to face some difficult truths.

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FOR BEN: Corbin's Bend, Book Six (Sample Chapter)
by Kate Richards

Copyright 2014 Lazy Day, LLC and Kate Richards

Chapter One

Teri Simms had distressing news to deliver. Roy would be upset, but it couldn’t be helped.

Sometimes Teri feared she’d dreamed her life. She’d come far. And brought her husband along with her. But neither had grown up expecting the luxury of their current life. Or the frantic nature of their days and nights.

From so high up, the streets of New York City looked less in focus than the scenes on the HDTV on the wall opposite the floor-to-ceiling windows of their hard-earned penthouse. Not a sound or a speck of dust penetrated the glass tower, despite her husband’s complaints about the noise and dirt of the City. Tiny cars passed back in forth in front of the building, stopping and starting as the colored traffic lights flashed, or pedestrians crossed.

The rooftop terrace her husband so loved, a riot of floral color in daytime, lay in shades of gray at nine o’clock at night. And she didn’t feel motivated to turn on the floodlights and dim her view of the Boulevard.

Was one of those tiny cabs making its way down Broadway carrying Roy?

They’d planned an evening together, at his request. She’d even refused a client dinner—something rarer than rare in her busy career—to rush home and enjoy takeout sushi and a movie with her husband. And he was over an hour late. She could have met with the client for drinks, presented the new investment strategy, and been home by then, if he couldn’t make their appointment.

Beyond irritated, Teri paced toward the narrow marble ledge by the entrance, picked up her phone but didn’t dial. She wouldn’t call him. The late party had the responsibility. He knew that. And if his own schedule ran over, he could have had his secretary let her know, preferably before she cut the business day short.

Husbands were almost not worth the effort.

She froze, hand still on the device. How could she think Roy not worth the effort? He worked as hard as she did—albeit with a little encouragement from his better half—and would make full partner within the next couple of years, sooner if old man Barnstall got any more absent minded and was forced into retirement.

Teri frowned at the worn green leather recliner set off to the side, as if ashamed to associate with the rest of the subtle earth tones the decorator chose for their home. Millicent would be by for the annual style update in a few days, and would no doubt fuss about the ugly thing again. But Roy refused to get rid of it…so far.

And the news she had to share would take him a while to forgive, so the furniture issue would have to wait until another night.

Teri grabbed the phone and sank into the worn chair. She’d never admit to him how often she sat there, how comfortable it was, or how the lingering hint of his woodsy cologne lifted her spirits when she was worried or a little blue. What if he was having those alarming chest pains again? His doctor said it was indigestion, prescribed antacids and shorter work days. But what if it was something more?

As soon as he had that partnership, she would have him check into the hospital for tests. If they did it sooner, the seniors would hold his health against him.

Hitting speed dial, she settled back and listened to the ring until it went to voicemail.

Anger returned, seeping over her unease. The inconsiderate man could at least pick the damn thing up and give her his excuse for tardiness.

Ding. The shining steel elevator doors slid open. No wonder he’d been unavailable. One would think a building like theirs would offer lifts with a reasonable amount of cellphone reception. She’d have her secretary send a nasty note to the management company in the morning. Roy stepped into the great room, his overcoat over his arm, top button on his shirt loosened, tie stuffed in his jacket pocket. One lock of black hair fell over his forehead. He always had looked great rumpled. It sent naughty right to her core. She might have liked his success, but his charm and sex appeal had been the first things she’d noticed about him. Then his potential.

Still…he was late. “About time you got here.”

The corner of his lips curved up, deepening the lines around his tired eyes. “I knew you liked my chair.”

Dammit. She jumped up as if the leather burned the backs of her thighs. “I don’t, I just…. that’s not the point. Why are you late?” He raised his shoulders and her gaze fixed on his empty hands. “And where’s the sushi? You forgot again.” Not giving him a chance to respond, she hit the next number on speed dial. “Hi, Yasumi, it’s Mrs. Simms. Can you send the usual?” While the terrace was Roy’s favorite part of their home, the restaurants and shops on the first two floors of their steel and glass high-rise were hers. If she could telecommute, she could go months without going outside. Of course, her lack of attendance would lead to disaster. Her clients counted on personal service. And the backstabbers at work needed watching.

As she dropped the phone to the side table, his grin fell. “I don’t know why you didn’t order it to start with.” And the tone of the evening clicked into place. Bickering, as usual. So much for intimacy, a movie and…oh, no. If she got him upset before she told him her bad news, things were likely to escalate. She’d planned to soften him up before delivering the blow.

Smoothing her hair, she summoned whatever sex appeal she retained and offered him a coy smile. “You’re right, Roy. I should have.” Teri slunk across the room, took his overcoat, and hung it in the foyer closet. “Let’s not ruin our evening. Were you stuck in a meeting?”

“No,” he said, casting a narrow-eyed gaze at her.

“Traffic?”

He shook his head. Confused, she tried to think of what other reason might have delayed him. Silence stretched out as the two of them stood between the elevator door and coat closet until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“It’s almost nine-thirty. Why weren’t you here at eight, as we agreed?”

He fidgeted, increasing his resemblance to a rumpled little boy at the end of a busy day, then lifted his head and his piercing and very grown-up stare skewered her. “Because I didn’t think you would be.”

Stunned, she tried to summon words of protest. Then remembered she didn’t have the upper hand for once. “And you had reason to lack faith in me. I apologize.” Taking his arm, she led him toward his chair and pushed him down. “I’ll fix us a drink while we wait for the sushi. How was your day, dear?”

Roy leapt out of the chair faster than his wife had. How was your day, dear? The query of a 1950s housewife, maybe, but not his hotshot financier wife. Suspicion faded under an overburden of certainty. Gripping her upper arm, he jerked her to face him and grasped the other elbow. Acid burned in his throat. “Before we go any further, what the hell is going on?”

I-I don’t know what you mean.” She widened her eyes, a caricature of innocence she invariably adopted when she hid something. “What’s wrong with asking about your day?”

Wrong? “The last time I kept you waiting, you subjected me to the silent treatment for a week. I know you, Teri. If you are willing to overlook the waste of over an hour of your precious time, something’s up.”

They stood poised in the center of the cold, impersonal room she hired some fussy, skinny woman to redecorate every year. To keep up with trends, she said, for when they entertained. He wasn’t even sure whether they owned the furniture or maybe leased it so that it could come and go so often. And he couldn’t recall the last time they had guests. It was easier to take clients out than to arrange catering.

She dropped her face and he stared at the top of her head, coming only up to his collarbone.

Teri was a constant blur of motion, in and out of the house, on her way to work and meetings. Their social life consisted of business-related engagements. Her slim form trembled in his hands, a hummingbird, something never still long enough for a good look.

Softening, he reconsidered his stance, unable to hold anger at the petite woman he’d married. He never could. Whatever she had to tell him, they’d get past it. A small flicker of worry flitted past—was someone ill? It was so out of character for her to be sweet to him when he was wrong—and he was so often wrong.

“Teri,” he released one shoulder and tipped her chin up, “tell me what’s going on.” Her lovely face, emerald eyes, high cheekbones, framed by glossy auburn hair, had captivated him the first time he’d seen her at a fraternity mixer. There’d been nobody for him since although she hadn’t deigned to notice him right away.

No, he’d spent a year chasing her like a smitten boy, which he supposed he had been, before she accepted an invitation to dinner and a concert.

She bit her lip and swallowed hard and his fear rose. His mother must be dead. Nothing could cause his confident wife so much hesitation but a great tragedy. Steeling himself, he waited for her answer.

“It’s not a big deal, nothing to be so upset about.” She shrugged free of his grip and faced the City view. “We just have to reschedule our vacation for later in the summer. You don’t mind, do you?”

The rage reddening his vision might have been out of proportion…if they had ever had a vacation. Even their honeymoon had been cut short by an emergency at the office. He should have seen the writing on the wall then. His moment of nostalgic affection fled. “Mind? Why should I mind?”

She turned to him again, a small smile highlighting the relief in her eyes, her brisk mannerisms returning. Teri bent to straighten a pillow on the couch and her straight gray pencil skirt tightened around her perfect ass. His focus narrowed on his favorite part of her anatomy. But, for once, caressing it wasn’t his first thought.

“So, I’ll call the travel agent and cancel.” She moved another annoying decorative pillow into its exact place on the leather sofa. “And maybe we can go in the fall?”

“I don’t think so.” Roy moved the few steps to stand behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Not this time. I am holding you accountable for your promises, for once.” Beyond rational thought, he lifted his hand and brought it down on her backside with a resounding smack. “And I am tired of being lied to.” Another sharp slap on her other cheek, the sound echoing in their sterile, perfectly arranged “living” room. Nobody did any living there. No family photos hung on the pale-gray papered walls. No books or boxes of tissues, candy, or stray personal items cluttered the occasional tables. Like a hotel room, where they passed through on their way to more important things. Slapping her a third time, he tightened his hold as she struggled.

Roy dropped to a seat on the couch and pulled her over his lap. Her outraged gasps barely broke through the roaring in his head.

“What are you doing?” Teri kicked out but her legs flailed on the smooth cushions and her arms were pinned beneath her. “Stop it immediately!” Two more smacks and she shrieked. “Have you gone insane?”

“Maybe, Teri, but it’s time someone held you to your agreements, and if you will recall…this was one of them.”

She stilled and so did his hand, rubbing small circles on her ass, while he decided how many more spanks her behavior merited. “Oh, God, you can’t be referring to the ridiculous game we used to play.”

He lifted his hand high and whacked, hard. “You didn’t think it was a game when you proposed the plan.” Way back when, during their engagement, she’d introduced some elements of domestic discipline into their life. He’d spanked her once or twice for sassy behavior, but it really had never been more than a game. “But maybe never taking it beyond sex play was my mistake. Maybe if I’d been a little more proactive, we wouldn’t have gotten to this point.”

“Roy, stop this.” She struggled, a warm armful, her breasts rubbing against the side of his thigh.

“I think your news is punishment-worthy, don’t you?” Smack. Her skirt got in the way and he drew the zipper down, keeping one forearm on her waist to hold her in place.

“Roy,” she shrieked, her voice rising in volume. “If you don’t let me up, I’ll…I’ll….”

“You’ll what?” Jerking the garment to her knees, he beheld those horrible Lycra undergarments she wore, claiming her behind bulged out of control no matter how much she dieted and exercised. He couldn’t think how to get them off and still hold her there, so they’d have to stay. His first spank on her appropriately named underwear made him grin.

“Just cut it out. Ouch! That hurts!” Teri bucked against his arm, her captive cheeks wriggling in their prison as he rained his displeasure and punishment on her buttocks, then on her thighs, on the Lycra then below it, on her bare skin. The sharp crack of his palm against her white flesh, the pink handprints, pleased him.

“That’s the idea. It’s punishment, after all. Breaking your word is a serious offense. Wasn’t keeping our promises one of our vows?”

He’d avoided taking advantage of their agreement for a long time, fearing his anger would get the best of him. But far from it, he experienced a sense of control he’d never imagined. And her wriggling on his lap was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

The few times they’d engaged in spanking before had been the discipline games of experimenting college students. True. But could their agreement hold the key to saving a marriage on the rocks? Sobered by the possibility, and her lack of response, he stopped.

Teri no longer struggled, but lay limp, and he leaned his head against the high-backed sofa. He’d spanked her. What next?

They couldn’t go back. But what would take them forward? What would he do if she stood up and announced she was leaving him? Despite all their troubles, she held his heart in her delicate hands. His throat swelled with emotion. And guilt. She seemed so much smaller lying there, and so quiet. In a rush of worry, he lifted her to sit upright on his lap and searched her face. Tear-tracks marked the soft curves of her cheeks and, as he watched, a droplet fell from her lashes to splash on his hand.

“Oh, baby, I….” How could he make up for striking her in anger? Perhaps his feeling of being in control had been an illusion. His throat burned, his chest hurt. He should pack and go before she had the police on him. He held her by the waist, but her arms came up and circled his neck and she buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed.

His heart broke at the depth of her sadness, and it was his fault. But under his guilt and doubt, the beginnings of another feeling surfaced. A memory of a different relationship. Their first few years together had a whole different balance. Roy tightened his arms around her and stroked her back, whispering reassurances while images struck him.

Long, long before, he’d been a solid partner in their relationship.

Assured of his plans for the future, he’d completed undergrad studies, achieved honor society each semester without much effort and had plenty of time for frolicking with his pretty girlfriend. They’d attended parties and gone on romantic picnics, all by themselves. Movies, dinner out…mostly cheap because they didn’t have a lot of extra money but every event took on a sparkle with Teri by his side. While he attended law school and she worked on her MBA, their time had been tighter, but they’d still managed to have “study picnics” which more often than not dissolved into passionate lovemaking on the faded quilt spread on his apartment floor. Sometimes with some playful spanking to spice things up. They’d laughed so much then.

When had everything changed?

Teri sniffled and he stroked her hair. “It’s okay, baby.” The guilt had faded, but his confusion made it impossible to identify what replaced it. An odd comfort, for sure, at holding her, soothing her tears, and an ache at her softness. Her hard, sharp edges in recent years could cut glass and had sliced at his feelings more than once. When she lifted her chin, he pressed his lips to her forehead, her nose, and, as her eyes flickered closed, he kissed each eyelid then her mouth.

For an instant, he feared she would reject him. After all, he was the beast who had taken her over his lap in anger. He needed to apologize, explain his actions…somehow. But Teri groaned and returned his growing passion. As if a wall had crumbled between them, passion flared. He moved his hands up and down her back until he cupped her ass, still warm from his attentions, and his cock hardened.

With a growl, Roy lifted her in his arms—teetering off balance as he rose—and strode toward their bedroom. She hung on, and he savaged her mouth while trying not to bounce off any walls. Dropping her to the mattress on her belly, he grasped her Lycra garment and rent it in two then flipped her over.

“What are you doing?” she protested. “I need those.”

“No you don’t, and if you want to remain my wife, you will never wear them again.” He might be going too far, but her butt cheeks and upper thighs bore a pink stain from his hands, and his desire surged. He grabbed a stack of pillows to raise her hips then opened his belt, unzipped his suit pants, and pulled his erect cock out of the boxer briefs.

Ready to fuck her right then, he cautioned himself to slow down, to make sure she was ready. Usually she would tell him, but he had the reins. Pushing her ass higher, he admired the picture she made before him on the silky black comforter. The one she always put aside so he wouldn’t soil it with his cum.

“Roy, I need to—” She looked over her shoulder and he saw the start of the old, in-control Teri surfacing. He pushed her face into the pillows.

“You need to spread your legs, woman.” He jerked them apart for her, baring her rosy pussy to his perusal.

“I don’t want….”

Roy stroked one finger from her clit to her anus, dragging moisture with it. “I can’t imagine what you don’t want, you’re so wet for me.” Unable to resist, he slapped her bare bottom, rewarded by the sharp crack. So much better than over those damn girdle-things. He’d go through her drawer and dispose of every pair. A woman’s curves, especially those of his wife, deserved more respect than to be crammed into such things. What happened to the jiggle he’d loved? “Do you want me to stop, baby?” He rubbed her with two fingers, teasing at her entrance and then retreating as her breathing grew harsh. “You’ll have to speak up.”

“No…I….” Teri lapsed into silence and he paused, holding light pressure on her clit. She jerked.

“No, stop? Or no, don’t stop.”

“Damn you,” she murmured. “Just fuck me, why don’t you, so we can get on with our conversation.”

He fought his usual reaction to her words. He’d zipped up and walked away before, when she became shrewish, but instead he rained down on her cheeks a flurry of slaps, holding her in place with the other hand. “But, wife, you don’t expect me to leave you hanging to take my own pleasure.” He spanked over her upper thighs, making overlapping handprints, to his great satisfaction. But anger was not in the game. He was hot for her form and anxious to bring her back to the soft woman he’d glimpsed in the living room. “This is our evening together and we are going to enjoy it.”

Roy’s passion for his wife deepened along with the flush on her backside. Cherry red suited her, and if she couldn’t sit down at work in comfort the next day, perhaps she’d remember how she had attempted—yes, attempted, because he was not going to let her have her way—to change their plans. If she insisted, they were over.

The thought slowed his hand but also fired his blood. They were worth fighting for. But he couldn’t do it unless they had some time together. More than a stolen hour, which often ended with either an argument or a pair of exhausted people asleep before they even got undressed. Dammit, they needed the two weeks they’d scheduled.

But even if she refused, he’d use the evening to make a lasting memory. Grasping her hips, he dragged her and the heap of pillows closer to the edge of the bed and lifted her rump higher, exposing her swollen pussy. A droplet of moisture clung to her thigh and he bent to lap it up. Heat burned his cheek from her well-spanked leg and he pressed his lips to the handprint, cherishing his mark on her skin.

Teri moaned and, anxious to amp up the mood, he buried his face in her cunt, licking and sucking and drinking in her sweetness. How long had it been since he’d eaten her out? Her thrashing fed his passion and he rested a hand on her butt cheek, where raised prints marked her. His handprints. He’d love to spank a little more, but he didn’t want to cause her any harm.

Maybe on their vacation. He could bring along a few things and add to the fun. A hair brush, wooden spoon…his cock jerked.

He lifted his face, smiling when she groaned in protest.

“Sweetheart,” he announced, “we are going on our trip.”

“No, I…oh, God.”

He sucked on her clit, holding it between his teeth with just enough pressure to send her to the moon and back. Teri bucked against him and he stopped again. “Wrong answer.” Pinning her knees to the mattress, Roy held her in place, to give her time to think. “Well?”

She whimpered.

He licked her, from front to back, and added a soft slap to her backside.

“I can’t.”

He tweaked her clit with two fingers and applied pressure. “Teri, this is an important decision. I suggest you think carefully because I won’t ask again.” Lifting his hand, he waited.

“You aren’t playing fair.” She panted and reached back, pushing at his head, but he held firm. Her musk drove him mad, made it crazy difficult to hold still, but he played for life. For their life together. “Okay, fine. I will make it work. If it’s so important to you.”

Damn right. He dove into her warmth, licking and sucking like a madman, devouring her and rejoicing in the small victory. Driving two fingers inside her pussy, he added a third and spread them, drawing her clit into his mouth and closing his teeth over it hard enough to send her over the edge, shaking all over. Gentle had never worked for his ambitious, driven woman.

Rising, he grabbed his cock and directed it into her sopping hole. “Good girl.” Thrusting to the hilt and rising back, he savored the tight sheath rippling around his dick. She still clenched with her orgasm and he wanted to give her another before he took his own pleasure, but it wouldn’t take long. Her glowing bottom against his groin lit his fire like nothing ever before. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her and reached to stroke her between her legs. Within seconds, she shrieked his name and flung herself around like a rag doll in the throes of another orgasm. His balls tightened and cum surged up and into her, pumping into his wife’s sweet body.

Dropping onto the bed beside her, he gathered her and held her tight. She might never know how precious she was to him, but he did. He’d do anything to save their marriage and keep her close. And if it turned them both on in the process, bonus!

They would go to the island paradise where he would tell her it was time to start a family. And, perhaps, she would agree. Darkness closed over him in the first peaceful rest he’d had in recorded memory. He didn’t even get up to take his bedtime antacid.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

HONEY DOES by Kate Richards

HONEY DOES by Kate Richards


Honey is a woman in love…with her husband. But after several years of marriage and three kids, she fears he may see her more as wife and mother than the sexy woman he married.

Maybe a daring sex toy will bring the spark back. But when Honey tries out the toy, things spiral out of control.

Mack is a cop on the beat, working hard to move up in the force. He’s troubled by the domestic violence he sees on the job and fears that someone else’s family troubles could take him away from his beloved family.

But the real threat comes from within his own department leaving his career and his wife in danger.

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~Excerpt~ 

She clicked on the tracking number and confirmed. Out for delivery.

“What’s up, Honey?”

She jumped. “What?”

He dropped a kiss on her head. “Is my lunch ready?”

“On the counter.” Like every morning.

“Thanks. Anything exciting going on today?”

She minimized the screen. “Oh, you know...” He didn’t…but he would soon enough.

“Everything okay?” She was kind of surprised he noticed her distraction, but touched. Honey spun her desk chair and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his warm, just-big-enough-to-be-comforting belly. Mack had gained some weight in their years together, but it did nothing to lessen his appeal for her. His red hair was combed back, still damp from the shower.

“Everything is fine, and thank you for asking.”

“Okay.” The big goon kissed her hair again, and she let him go. “Have a good day.” He scooped up his lunch box and headed toward the door, off to spend his shift with grownups. With his partner. All day in the squad car with Sexy Sandy.

The woman should be a model instead of a cop. Not that she didn’t trust Mack, but why couldn’t he have been assigned someone a little less…blonde?

Honey’s gaze darted back to the screen. The answer to all their worries would be delivered by the guys in brown. Appropriate for the item. Even if not one of them could compete with the erotic lure of the guy she made dinner for every night.

Ten minutes later, she walked the kids to the bus, waved while they left then raced back to begin the real work of the day. Waiting for the box.

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Wednesday, October 2, 2013

BEYOND THE BREAKING POINT by Zena Wynn

BEYOND THE BREAKING POINT by Zena Wynn

Breaking point. Everyone has one. For Dr. Cassidy Brannon it was discovering her husband, Phillip, in a compromising position with his best friend Max’s almost fiancée, Amber, while vacationing with the other couple. Angry and heartbroken, she and Max indulge in a night of drunken, vindictive sex. The next day, Cassidy returns home with one goal in mind—divorce. ...

However, nothing goes as planned. Phillip, hell bent on fixing their marriage, won’t agree to a divorce. What was only meant to be one, never to be spoken of again, night with Max is evolving into something much more complicated. Then Cassidy discovers she’s pregnant. With both Max and Phillip adamantly claiming to be the father, how much more can Cassidy take before she’s pushed beyond the breaking point?


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Chapter One


A large hand, calloused from years of playing football and basketball, glided underneath the hem of the flimsy, baby-doll nightie she wore and worked its way to her breasts. "Wake up, beautiful. It’s baby making time." 

Groaning in protest, Cassidy Brannon rolled away from her husband’s touch, drew her leg up in her favorite sleeping position, and hugged her pillow closer to her. "Sleep. Vacation." 

Phillip, her husband of eight years, chuckled huskily. "I see I need to be a little more persuasive." 

He snuggled up so close behind her, she could feel the hard rod of his morning erection prodding the crease of her buttocks. Pushing her mass of unbound hair out of the way, he made a trail of nibbling kisses and love bites, beginning with the sensitive skin behind her ear, to her neck, and gradually worked his way down the length of her spine. As he maneuvered lower, he skimmed the palm of his hand up her thigh to the naked skin of her core. Probing fingers teased, touched, and tested her readiness to receive him. 

What Cassidy wanted most was more sleep. She cracked an eye open. The milky whiteness of extremely early morning or of a rain-clouded sky peaked around the edges of the large, wooden-blind covered window. Since today’s forecast called for clear sunny skies, Cassidy had to assume the sun hadn’t completely risen. 

"Roll over," he commanded, his voice low and aroused. 

Reluctantly, Cassidy did as instructed, knowing this morning’s opportunity to sleep in had just gone bye-bye. "Mmm, you’re really getting into this," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck as he kneed her legs open. Phillip lowered his heavier frame onto her lighter one, pinning her to the mattress. 

As she ran her hands up and down his muscular back, she mused that he still was just as big and muscular as he had been when he played collegiate football. Not surprising since he spent hours in the gym each week working on his physique. 

He gave her that smile she adored. "Darling, you know I’m always up," he nudged her sex with his penis, "for a challenge. The book said early morning was the best time for conception." 

He drew one nipple into his mouth, sucking deeply. Reaching between their bodies, he strummed her clit with his thumb. Cassidy moaned and arched into the knowledgeable hand stroking her body. Maybe morning sex wasn’t such a bad idea after all, she thought hazily as her body came alive. 

"You ready for me?" he asked, a hint of strain in his voice. 

Her "yes," came out on a sigh of anticipation. 

He withdrew his hand and guided his penis to her opening. Flexing his powerful hips, Phillip pushed steadily until he was deeply embedded. Then they began to move in a rhythm they’d perfected through years of practice. 

Phillip changed the angle of his thrust and hit a spot that caused her to jerk. "Ohh," she moaned. 

"Like that?" his deep voice rumbled. 

"Yes." It came out breathy. 

He did it again, and again. Cassidy canted her hips to take him deeper, and allowed her nails to dig into her husband’s damp, muscular back. There was nothing like a man who took good care of himself, she mused. She loved running her hands over his muscles. 

"That’s right, baby. Tighten that pussy around my cock. Make it good for me," he commanded. "Dig those nails into my back. Show me you like what I’m doing to you." 

Cassidy moaned, knowing she was getting close. She could feel it in the clenching of her abdomen muscles. "Feels…so…good," she panted. 

His dark-brown eyes stared into hers from inches away. "I love your pussy. It’s so hot, sweet and wet." He thrust faster, harder. "Come for me, baby. Let go. Let go now." 

Cassidy dug her heels into the mattress, stiffened, and on a strangled groan, let the orgasm take her. 

"That’s right, baby. Shit, you feel so good. Hold on. Hold on to me tight. I’m getting ready to let go." 

She wrapped her arms around him and held on to his slick body as he pounded into her. The mattress groaned its protest at the abuse and Cassidy had a moment’s concern, wondering if their condo mates could hear and know what they were doing. Then Phillip went rigid. His hips gave a few spasmodic jerks before he slumped on her, a complete dead weight. 

Cassidy gave him a few seconds to recover then poked him in the side. "Can’t breathe," she gasped. 

He hefted his upper body up a few inches and shifted his weight to the side before dropping again. Cassidy lay with her husband curled around her, his head on the pillow beside her. He breathed heavily in her ear, his muscled thigh still sandwiched between hers and his now flaccid, damp cock pressed against her body. 

She idly stroked his hair, loving the way his sweat-slicked, low cut felt against her hand. "They’ll be looking for us soon." 

He cupped her breast and toyed with the nipple. "We’re on vacation," he reminded her. "That means no schedules. Besides, you’re supposed to lie still and give my soldiers a chance to reach their target." 

She laughed. "Like your soldiers need any help." 

Philip propped up on an elbow. "You never know. You’ve been off the pill for six months. I thought we’d have seen some results by now." 

She cupped his strong, handsome face, allowing her thumb to play with his goatee. "Six months isn’t that long, considering. I wasn’t all that regular before I went on the pill and it took a few months for me to start ovulating after coming off. So in reality, we’ve only been trying about three months. The rest was really great practice," she told him, waggling her eyebrows. 

His lips smiled but the eyes remained serious. "I just really want a family with you." He shifted his hand from her breast and laid it on her stomach. "I want to see my child, children growing here. We’ve waited long enough." 

"You will," she assured him. "And thirty isn’t that old to be starting a family. Women can safely have children into their forties. We have time." 

"Just to be on the safe side…" Philip slid his hand from her belly to her mound and stroked her clit. "I’d better send in the reserves." 

"Go troops," she cheered as he dragged her down into another round of lovemaking. 

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Friday, August 30, 2013

SWITCH by Kate Richards

SWITCH by Kate Richards

The Trainer

Esme Stone’s marriage is on the rocks. Her husband, Rick, has Peter Pan Syndrome to the extreme, partying till all hours and spending every dime he makes. She cooks, cleans, earns the money for their expenses, and takes responsibility for paying the bills. In short, everything. How can she start a family when her husband is a big kid himself? Heart breaking, she considers divorce.

One step from walking out, she meets a woman online, then others, who swear a Domestic Discipline agreement saved their marriages. That putting their husbands in charge helped them grow up. In hopeful desperation, Esme approaches Rick with an ultimatum.

Take charge or take a hike.

They jump in with both feet and then come up against a wall. Rick needs help with the discipline elements he must employ. Spank Esme?

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~Excerpt~

“Not so bad, was it?” Once again he rubbed her buttocks. Soothing the heat left by the flat of his hand. “Now, we will go to the bare skin, but first I want Rick to make his first decision.” He stopped stroking, but left his palm resting on her ass. “Go to the closet and pick out an implement. I suggest a paddle, but whatever looks good to you.”

Rick moved through her field of vision and disappeared again, while her anxiety rose. Her husband, who hadn’t even laid a hand on her backside, wouldn’t pick anything too crazy, would he? Of course, crazy was all in the eye of the beholder…or the bottom of the spankee.

“A whisk?”

A chuckle rumbled from the Trainer, irritating her beyond all reason, and she struggled to sit up, to get off the bastard’s lap. He dropped his arm over the small of her back, pinning her in place. “Some people have eclectic taste. See anything you like, Rick?” “I think so, yes.” She braced her upper body on her left palm raising her head and straining to see. What did he have from the cabinet of horrors? Esme let her eyes drift closed. Whatever would be would be.

 A loud thump and they flew open again.

“Sorry, clumsy me.” What had he dropped? A bowling ball? The rock-hard thighs under her belly vibrated with the Trainer’s humor. She didn’t share his amusement in the situation. Of course his fanny wasn’t sticking up in the air, ready to be a target—again. Would anyone dare to give him a taste of his own medicine?

 Perhaps this whole domestic discipline thing had gotten out of hand. The humiliation clause in their agreement hadn’t included a group guffaw while her butt caught cold.

“Ohhh.” The Trainer’s warm palm circled her cheeks again, one then the other, rhythmic and sensual. And created a whole other problem. Until now, she’d had zero reaction to his touch. Something had changed; the very thought of a paddle or flogger in her husband’s hand had triggered a reaction.
Although it wasn’t him touching her, somehow the on switch had been flicked to her libido. Every inch of exposed skin was a tiny erogenous zone and his smooth palm swept from one to the next, lighting her on fire. “I don’t know—I’m not sure….”

 “Rick, have you made your selection? I’m keeping your wife warm.”

Hot, he is keeping your wife hot, and you may not like that.

 Rick’s white athletic shoes returned to her view. “Keeping her…warm?”

Well, gee, Rick, thanks for noticing another man is rubbing my bare ass. Just please don’t notice how turned on I’m getting. At least until she could think it through and decide whether she was becoming a slut who didn’t care whose hands were on her. She blew out a shuddering breath. Was it more distressing when she hadn’t reacted or now that she had?

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Wednesday, May 22, 2013

DEAR JON by Zena Wynn

DEAR JON by Zena Wynn

What does a newly wed military wife do when she feels like she’s losing touch with her husband who’s on deployment? This is the dilemma facing Evie McCoy. 
 
When Evie signed on to be Mrs. Lieutenant Jonathan McCoy, she knew his military career and imminent deployment came with the package. Then Jon left, the months passed, and Evie discovered being a soldier’s wife is a lot more difficult than she’d believed. She and her husband are communicating, but nothing much is being said. Unwilling to burden her husband with her fears for their marriage and with no one else she can talk to, Evie’s at her wits end.
Then her mother forcefully suggests Evie attend one of the military wives’ support meetings. Reluctantly, Evie goes and the advice they give her shocks Evie with its simplicity—write Jon a letter. Can a Dear Jon letter really save her marriage? And if her Dear Jon letter works, will she be able to hold it together until her soldier comes home?
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~Excerpt~

“LT. McCoy! You got mail!”

First Lieutenant Jon McCoy looked up from where he sat cleaning his weapon. “What?”

Private First Class Williams, standing in the doorway to his quarters, tossed him an envelope. “Looks like it’s from your wife.”

Frowning, he caught the legal size envelope. “Thanks,” he said absently.

The letter was from Evie. She hadn’t said anything about sending him one when she emailed yesterday. A feeling of dread pooled in his gut. What was so important for her to say that she couldn’t tell him when they’d Skyped?

He put his weapon back together and wiped his hand on a hand towel to rid it of gun oil, all the while staring at his wife’s handwriting. Lots of relationships fail while soldiers were on deployment. The separation was tough and lately he’d been getting the feeling that Evie…

No, better not go there. Read the letter, see what she has to say, and then I’ll know how to handle it. I hope.

Getting comfortable on the bunk, he used his thumb to unseal the envelope and pulled out a plain sheet of notebook paper.

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Thursday, May 9, 2013

CHANGING ROOM by Veronica Tower

CHANGING ROOM by Veronica Tower

Playtime Series Book 3

On their tenth wedding anniversary, Edie and Jack vowed to reinvigorate their sex life and save their marriage through randomly selected fantasies. They’ve each had a turn but now the games are escalating, and Edie and Jack are growing bolder.

 Edie’s always wanted Jack to pay a little more personal attention to her. Acting as her personal shopper—picking out clothes to mold her curves, skimming his hands along her skin to check fit—should provide ample opportunity for him to pay attention to every tiny detail. Best of all, they don’t even have to leave the house, or her closet, for the fantasy. But Jack won’t settle for anything less than authentic. Edie better brace herself for Jack’s very personal, and very public, attention.

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Excerpt:
 
By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.

An Excerpt From: CHANGING ROOM
Copyright © VERONICA TOWER, 2013
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“Why don’t we give it a look?” Jack suggested. “If it’s really crowded, we’ll call it off. But I phoned in sick and we got here at,” he paused to check the clock on his phone, “ten in the morning because we want to make the backdrop of these fantasies as real as possible.” He coaxed her with a teasing grin. “You set the precedent with your streetwalker role and you’re always telling me I should listen to you more.”

Edie grimaced, not picking up on his humor at all. She was a beautiful, thirty year old African-American woman with long black hair and a damn good figure. He could still see in her the high school cheerleader he’d fallen in love with in Algebra class, but she’d matured into someone even more attractive. That soft, fresh bloom of youth had evolved into a natural, sensuous maturity. He could see it in her cheekbones, the line of her jaw and the light that brightened her eyes when she found something funny. He’d lost sight of that beauty too often over the past few years and he was really enjoying discovering it again.

“I don’t know, Jack,” Edie told him. “We almost got arrested the first time, and you could have lost your job if we’d gotten caught during our second fantasy.”

True, but since they’d gotten away with it both times, he didn’t find the argument convincing. He and Edie had been having a tough time these last few years and their physical relationship had gone from bad to non-existent. Then their marriage counselor, Dr. Phelps, had come up with this unique way to get them sleeping with each other again. She’d suggested that each of them write down three sexual fantasies on slips of paper and then draw one per week and act them out together. Jack had been highly skeptical, but willing to try anything if it let him start fucking his wife again. To his surprise the results of their first two experiments had been mind blowing and he really wanted to try it again.
“The worse that can happen here is that we get thrown out of the store,” Jack assured her. “And we chose a place that you don’t shop in anyway.”

A young mother pushed an infant in a stroller past them and Jack opened the heavy glass door for her. She thanked him as she maneuvered past.

Jack wanted to continue his conversation with Edie, but like most big stores, Grayson’s had a second set of glass doors to navigate right after the first. He slipped inside and held that one as well so the woman could push her stroller into the store.

Edie joined him in the little vestibule between the two sets of doors. “What if you’re wrong? What if they catch us and they do call the cops?”

Jack had to admit to himself that a 911 call was a potential problem. He didn’t think it was likely to happen, but it worried him just the same. If he admitted it to Edie, however, the whole game would be over before it began. “And why would they do that? Do you think they want this kind of publicity?”

“But what if they do?” Edie asked. Until this moment, Jack hadn’t realized just how nervous she was. He should have seen it right away. Chewing on her lip was a dead giveaway and she’d been chowing down on the scrumptious piece of flesh all morning.

He took her hands in his and caressed the backs of her fingers with his thumbs. “Hey, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can head back home and play dress up in the living room. Or rethink the whole fantasy and come up with a better way to make it happen. I’m doing this today for you. If you’re not comfortable with my idea, then I’m not doing it right.”

Edie’s whole demeanor changed. The tension eased out of her shoulders and she appeared to breathe more easily.

Jack acted fast to preempt his wife from accepting his spontaneous offer. “Of course, it won’t be as much fun if we do it at home. Do you remember how shocked we were when that real streetwalker propositioned us?”

Edie chuckled. “The look on your face when she tried to join our party was priceless—not that I think that’s an argument for playing out game outside the house.”

Jack decided to ignore the second half of our statement. “The look on my face? What about yours? I thought you thought I might actually accept her offer.”

Edie’s chuckle grew into an actual laugh. “If you had they would have needed the police to pull me off of you.”

Jack laughed with her. “It still made the whole thing hot though. I mean, talk about your realism. You don’t get that at home.”

“No you don’t, but you also don’t get college kids almost catching us,” Edie told him. The mischievous smile on her face reassured Jack.

Before he could answer, she gave in and pulled open the inner door. “Oh hell, we’ll try it, but I think you should know I’m onto you. You’re getting off on the risk as much as you’re getting off on me.”

“Me?” Jack asked as he hurried to follow after her. “I seem to recall you enjoying some pretty climactic orgasms at my little makeshift spa. My shoulder still has a bruise on it where you bit me.”

“Shush!” Edie snapped with a quick look back at him. “If anyone overhears you, we won’t be able to do our thing.”

She picked up her pace, fingers tightening on her purse and began to search the aisles for the women’s clothing section.

Jack knew how to read the telltale signs. Edie was as excited by the risk of discovery as he was.

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Monday, March 18, 2013

TAKE ME by Megan Slayer


TAKE ME by Megan Slayer

The phrase "get me out of here" just got a sexy makeover.

Talia wants nothing more than to shirk her duties on the set of her latest movie. Why? So she can be with her heartthrob husband, actor Ryker Thomas. But she never expected him to kidnap her... or did she?

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Take Me
 Megan Slayer
 All rights reserved.
 Copyright ©2013 Megan Slayer

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

"Ten p.m., and all I want is a good fuck." Talia Sanderson shrugged out of her robe and stepped into the steamy shower. Hot water sluiced over her body as she shook out her hair from the clip. She rubbed her hands over her body and groaned. Thirty-six days since she'd seen him and the same number of days since she'd had sex.

"I miss Ryker." Ryker Thomas, voted sexiest man alive and the one man she gave up control to. She leaned against the shower wall and sighed. "Stupid tabloids. Let the guy have a life. He can be hot and in a relationship."

She palmed her breast and gave her nipple a pinch. If Ryker were there, he'd have her against the wall and open to his inspection. She shivered. God, he loved to fuck in the shower... the bed, the wall... his trailer, her trailer... anywhere they could have sex. Touching herself didn't have the same effect as being with her husband. He knew where to touch her and where to kiss to make her moan. She hurried to clean herself. Maybe he'd have the phone on so they could have phone sex or something.
Anything was better than sitting in her trailer in the middle of the Nevada desert waiting for another day of filming to begin.

On the bed, her phone beeped. Her heart leapt. Only Ryker had the number. Talia pounced onto the mattress and pressed the buttons to retrieve the message.

I have a challenge for you.

She grinned and answered the text.

I'm game.

Her hands shook as she awaited the return message.

Get your trench coat. Wait for me on the bed.

Wait for him! She glanced around the trailer in search of her trench coat. Nervous giggles erupted from her throat.

An answer. She hadn't given him an answer. Shit.

Yes, Sir.

Talia waited, but no response came. Sure, someone could be fucking with her and posing as Ryker, but she doubted it. The tabloids expected to know everything about him -- where he went, if he drank, who went with him and if anything illegal happened. Not much fun to be the sexiest man alive that way.

She donned the trench coat and considered what to pair with it. Despite having a teensy trailer to live in while she filmed Shades of Red, she insisted on having at least twenty pairs of shoes, mostly boots, on hand for any occasion. She grabbed her favorite pair of buckle-adorned, knee-high boots. Ryker didn't care what she wore as long as she was comfortable. "I love you in nothing at all."

A shiver went up her spine. Damn, she wished he were there. She plopped down onto the edge of the bed to zip the black stiletto boots, when a thought occurred. He said to wait, but for how long? Would he actually be the one to show up or would he send another decoy? She didn't want to leave with someone and hated playing games to keep the paparazzi at bay. For the last year, she and Ryker had denied having any sort of a relationship. Then again, he'd denied his relationship with Tristan was more than friendship. She knew better. Tristan and Ryker loved each other as much she loved Ryker.
"He's my husband," she grumbled. "I want to be with him no matter what."

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Friday, March 8, 2013

MASSEUR by Veronica Tower

MASSEUR by Veronica Tower

Playtime Series Book 2

On their 10th wedding anniversary, Edie and Jack vowed to reinvigorate their sex life and save their marriage through randomly selected fantasies. First up was Jack's fantasy starring Edie as a common streetwalker.

Now it's Edie's turn to call the shots, and she wants a little TLC.

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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, please exit this site.

An Excerpt From: MASSEUR
Copyright © VERONICA TOWER , 2013
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Chapter One

Edie reached up to retrieve the breakfast bowl with the little folded pieces of paper inside it, an unusual twinge of hope sparking deep inside her body. The last time she and Jack had played this game, things had gotten really crazy, but it had still ended well. Who’d have thought that at the age of thirty she and her husband could still fool around in their car like a couple of horny teenagers? And who’d have thought that Jack would make the time to lie around cuddling with her afterward and talking about old times?

There was a smile on her face and a spring in her step as Edie turned around to place the bowl on the kitchen table.

Jack immediately reached for one of the folded up pieces, snatching up one of the slips of paper.
Edie’s good mood evaporated. “Hey!” she snapped at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find out what we’re going to do for playtime this weekend,” Jack responded. His fingers never stopped opening the little piece of paper. He was a six-foot-two former high school quarterback with skin as white as Edie’s was dark. Unfortunately, while the high school glory years were twelve years in the past, he still liked to act as if he could run their household the same way he used to direct his team in the huddle.

Edie wasn’t putting up with that. “Well who says you get to be the one to choose the fantasy?”

Jack’s fingers stumbled as he looked up at her. “You picked last time. I thought this would be my turn. Doesn’t that seem fair to you?”

That did seem fair, but Edie still wasn’t happy with how Jack had taken control again. Dr. Phelps said these little fantasy games that they called playtime were supposed to bring them closer together. Edie didn’t feel close to Jack when he ran roughshod over her wishes. And she really didn’t trust him to play fair in this game. “Who’s to say you didn’t check out all of these pieces of paper over the course of the week and mark one so you could snatch it up like this and make us play another one of your fantasies?” she asked.

Jack frowned. He continued to hold the folded paper in his hands, but stopped opening it. “Who’s to say you didn’t do that?” he shot back at her.

It was just like him to try and turn the question back around on her. “I didn’t!” Edie told him.

“Neither did I!” Jack assured her.

“But how do I know?” Edie asked. “Last week when I picked, you mixed up the pieces of paper in the bowl and made me close my eyes. I think we should follow the same rules now.”

“All right, all right,” Jack grumbled as he tossed the paper back in the bowl.

Edie picked it up and refolded it. “Now close your eyes,” she told him.

Jack did as he was told and she relished the tiny victory. Then she mixed the five little folded slips of paper around with her fingers and told him he could pick one out.

Jack’s hand fumbled slightly for the edge of the bowl and then pulled out a slip of paper without any hesitation at all. “Can I open my eyes now?”

Edie didn’t like the sour expression on his face. “You know it’s unattractive when our kids pout, but it’s downright ugly when you do it!”

Jack laughed and started opening the new piece of paper. They’d started this game a week ago at the insistence of their marriage counselor. Edie had mixed feelings about the first game. On the one hand, it had succeeded in getting them to have sex for the first time in years, but the whole concept—Jack picking her up and paying her for sex like she was a streetwalker—still bothered Edie on some level. It had been hot and exciting—but there was no denying that their bumping and grinding had been sex and not lovemaking.

Still, Dr. Phelps seemed pleased with their experience. “It’s a start,” the woman had told them, “and you aren’t going to make any progress on your problems if you can’t make a start.”

Jack finished unfolding the piece of paper. “It’s one of yours,” he told her.

Edie leaned forward eagerly, wondering which one it was.

“Oh, Lord,” Jack said, grinning. “I thought you said you wanted romance.”

“I do want a little romance,” Edie insisted. “Which one is it?” She reached for the scrap of paper but he moved it away from her hand.

“Honestly, Edie,” he said. “This is one I could have come up with. After all your complaints about my streetwalker fantasy, you want exactly the same thing I did.”

“What are you talking about?” Edie snapped. This time she succeeded in snagging the slip of paper away from him. She turned it over so she could read her own handwriting.

I want to be teased and pampered by a professional masseur at a spa.

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Friday, February 15, 2013

DYSFUNCTIONAL DEBAUCHERY by Alex Cook

DYSFUNCTIONAL DEBAUCHERY by Alex Cook

Fifty-Seven Shades of Shit Series Book Two

Convinced his wife, Kate, is cheating, George Bethers entrusts the ridiculous advice of his self-absorbed, non-best friend and idiotic neighbor, John, as they gear up to catch her in the act.

Completely unaware of his suspicions, Kate has worked hard at keeping a secret from her husband in a last bid attempt to obtain the BDSM sex life she desires after reading the delicious escapades of a very famous book character.

When a man loves a woman so much that he tries to be someone else, the dangerous obsession sends their sex life spiraling out of control when a series of disastrous outcomes can only lead to Dysfunctional Debauchery.

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“Oh shit, it’s wet.”

“Leaky she-part, or did you piss yourself again?” I mocked, climbing through the window.

“I nearly fell down the crapper,” John’s strangled cry resonated inside the glitzy bathroom.

“Not this time, but an un-flushed lump of shit popped up to say hello,” John ranted, grabbing a towel from the rack after scrubbing his hands clean.

“Give me that,” I barked, dislodging my foot from the bowl.

“Flashy son of a bitch isn’t he,” John exclaimed staring at Rick’s glamorous, marble-laden bathroom.

“Money doesn’t mean jack. Kate and I maybe poor but we are semi-happy,” I insisted until a deep womanly groan silenced us both.

I moved to the sink, digging through the drawers. Hushing John, I flicked the vanity light off and gently opened the adjacent door. A muted glow bounced off of the walls, revealing the direction of their location. Sensual and erotic, their words floated down the hall.

“I’ve waited a long time for you to be mine in the way I want you.”

“Mmmmmm.”

“Tell me, have you been very good today?”

“Mmmmmmmm mmmm.”

“I’m glad you’ve finally succumbed to your submissive nature…”—Submissive nature my ass, Kate was as docile as Mr. Hyde and what the fuck, why was she believing this bullshit?—“…I knew it was waiting to break free the moment we met. I want to feel you vibrate around me. I can’t wait to hear you scream my name when I grip those golden locks and hold you down and fuck you sooo hard and sooo deep…”
Clicking the door shut, the blind fury I’d since become best friends with was back and ready for a war. “Christian Gay is seducing my wife! Grab a weapon and let’s take him out,” I whispered harshly, scanning the bathroom. 


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Thursday, November 29, 2012

BACK IN LOVE AGAIN by K.T. BISHOP

BACK IN LOVE AGAIN by K.T. Bishop

Arnaz and Isis Rogers closed in on their 20th wedding anniversary, they had grown apart over the last year. Each had time-consuming careers as well as raising a fifteen year old son, Quentin, who calls himself Q-tip in the town of Sugarland, Texas.

Arnaz is a best-selling book author, specializing on the music world, something he began after graduating from Stillman College in 1992 and a year before they got married. Isis is considered one of the top Endocrinologists in the state of Texas, and just added Dietology to her job title at the Houston Medical Center. She received a hefty pay increase, which equaled her work load.

How would they find their way back to each other?

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          His heart pounded hard as he stared at the phone vibrating on the desk in the den. “Why the hell are people bothering me?” Arnaz ignored the phone, which stopped ringing for a few seconds, then rang again over the next five minutes.
Arnaz flicked open the phone and saw the double-digit area code followed with seven numbers on the ID screen. “Oh shit, it's Ebony.” He pressed the leave message button on his phone.
Ebony Lane was Arnaz's Editor at Roman Publishing and had been on his case to produce another book.
His skin crawled when he heard her thick accent speak angrily. “This may be a game to you, but this is no joking matter. If we don't have a book proposal in two weeks, your contract with us is over. I expect to hear from you soon.”
He hurled the phone against the wall and a loud pitch yelp of fear was released from his lips. “How could they do this to me?” Lane and her Italy-based company just put his ass on the line.
This was the biggest slump of Arnaz's career. He hadn't written a book in two years, the longest drought he went between manuscripts. Doubts began to crept inside his brain, as Arnaz wondered if he could rise to the occasion. He muttered to himself. “I think it may finally be over.”
Unlike most authors, Arnaz had no agent to serve as a buffer between him and the Publishing company. He handled his own negotiations, but could use an agent right now. “I knew not having an agent would bite me in the ass.”
Out of the blue, Arnaz pulled out one of his books from the shelf that was above the computer. “Maybe I can find something that will lit a fire.” He was desperate enough to look into one of his previous works for a spark.
Arnaz picked the last book he wrote, Wishing On a Star, the Untold Story of Latin Freestyle Music, was a best-seller, especially in the Hispanic community. Listening to Sweet Sensation, Seduction and Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam provided great memories for him as a teenager and young adult. “They don't make songs like this anymore.”
 

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

STREETWALKER by Veronica Tower

STREETWALKER by Veronica Tower

Book 1 in the Playtime Series.
On their tenth wedding anniversary, Edie and Jack vow to reinvigorate their sex life and save their marriage through randomly selected fantasies. First drawn is Jack’s fantasy starring Edie as a common streetwalker. Equal parts enraged and aroused, Edie determines to blow Jack’s mind.

Luring him to a seedy section of town, Edie pulls out all the stops to give Jack exactly what he asked for - whether he can handle it or not. High on the erotic rush of newfound power over each other, the couple vows to take the game - and their marriage - to the next level.

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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: Streetwalker

Copyright © Veronica Tower, 2012

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

Edie Williams put down her pen and folded the strip of paper in half and then in half again. “All right,” she said. “That’s three fantasies. Now what do you want to do with them?”

“I’ll get a bowl,” her husband said as he pushed back his chair from the kitchen table and rose to his feet. Jack still looked good despite having turned thirty last month. He had dark brown hair and even browner eyes crowning a six foot-two frame that was still pretty lean despite the fact that he didn’t play sports or work out the way he used to. As she watched he fetched a breakfast bowl out of the cabinets above the sink and started back toward the table. When he caught her eyes he offered a tired smile.

Tired was a good way to describe everything about them these days.

Jack set the bowl on the table between them and quickly tossed the three folded pieces of paper in front of him inside. Edie didn’t immediately follow suit. “Wouldn’t it be easier to celebrate the big one-oh with dinner and a movie?”

Jack sighed. She’d been getting a lot of sighs from him the past few years and frankly she felt exactly the same way. When they’d married nine years and three hundred sixty-four days ago, she’d been giddily in love with her handsome white jock. But the honeymoon had ended with the birth of their first child and despite having gone on to have a second kid their marriage had never really recovered.
“You always say that dinner and a movie takes no imagination,” Jack reminded her. “This,” he indicated the scraps of paper in the bowl, “is imaginative almost by definition. We said we’d give it a try. So are we going to do it or do you want me to go back to sleeping on the couch?”

The couch comment hurt! When their son was diagnosed with epilepsy, she’d been so afraid he would die in his sleep that she’d brought him into their bedroom. Unfortunately, their full sized bed wasn’t really big enough for two adults and an eight-year-old, so Jack had agreed to sleep on the couch for a while. Neither one of them had expected him to still be there fifteen months later. It was only after they’d gone into counseling that Edie had been forced to take the steps necessary to let her little boy sleep on his own again so Jack could come back in the bedroom. But their fifteen months apart had dealt a nearly mortal blow to their already damaged marriage. Now they were in counseling trying to figure out if they could rebuild some of the love and excitement that had first brought the jock and cheerleader together, or if they were only going to hang on for the kids.

“I guess we can do it,” Edie agreed.

“Good, because I don’t understand what the problem is,” Jack said. “We haven’t had good sex in three or four years and haven’t had any at all since before Blake had his first seizure. We both agreed this is important and Dr. Phelps suggested this was a good way to break the ice and make sex fun again.”

“I said I’d do it!” Edie snapped. Angry now, she threw her three slips of paper into the bowl. “You don’t have to lecture me about it.”

“Good,” Jack said again. He resumed his seat across from her and retrieved one of the six slips of paper.

“Why do you get to be the one to choose?” Edie demanded.

“I’m not,” Jack assured her. “I’m just going to fold them up so you can’t tell whose is whose.”
“Like I’d really cheat,” Edie grumbled.

Jack ignored her, painstakingly folding each slip of paper over upon itself four or five times before chucking it back in the bowl and retrieving another. When he finished there were six tightly wadded notes sitting in the container. He mixed them up with his fingers and looked up at Edie.

“All right, it’s your turn. Close your eyes and pick one.”

Edie smothered the impulse to point out that he obviously still felt like he had the right to tell her what to do. She shut her eyes and plucked one of the wadded pieces of paper out of the breakfast dish. She hoped she got one of her own fantasy scenarios—she didn’t even want to think about what kind of crap Jack would write down.

She opened her eyes again. “Satisfied?”

He shrugged.

Edie unfolded the piece of paper and read what her husband had written.

A streetwalker turning a trick with her John.

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Saturday, September 15, 2012

PRE-GAME SHOW by Zenobia Renquist

PRE-GAME SHOW by Zenobia Renquist

Tawnie and Hudson have been together for a long time. Their marriage isn't bad, but a woman needs some excitement in her life. Fortunately for Tawnie, Friday nights provide just the sort of adventure married life's been short on of late.

Friday nights mean Hudson's poker tournament, with a crowd of Hudson's friends. Big, noisy friends who love to do guy things. Tawnie knows just what they'll want. Snacks, booze, and a special brand of pre-game entertainment only she can provide.

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Pre-Game Show
Zenobia Renquist br> All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Zenobia Renquist

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Tawnie could hear them on the stairs. Her boys. They were never quiet. Always cracking jokes about who would go first and making bets on who could last until the end. So far Jason remained the reigning champion.

Jason.

She squirmed, rubbing her thighs together to soothe the anticipatory ache that made her pussy tingle. Jason always invaded her thoughts when she wanted to get herself off in a big way. He was the athletic sort who lived in the gym. The results had her sitting in a wet spot every time she saw him. She envied his wife, a woman equally obsessed with exercise, though Jason's wife looked very much like a woman who went for weights more than aerobics -- next to zero body fat and all muscle.

Tawnie had it on good authority that Jason liked his women a little soft, with curves he could hold. He and his wife enjoyed a terrible sex life. But that explained why Jason always visited Tawnie.

She smoothed her hands down her sides and over her thighs, enjoying the feel of the silk, fur-lined robe wrapped around her body. A bark of laughter made her smile to herself.

Doug.

His looks were the polar opposite of Jason's. An ex-military man, Doug had let himself go the moment he got out. But he still remained a gentleman. That was his charm. He worshipped a woman with his amethyst eyes and made her feel special, like royalty come to life. And Tawnie did have a habit of bringing him to his knees.

Another married man. But even a man as good as Doug had moments of weakness. In fact, all her boys were married men. And each one had shown up for a Friday night poker tournament two hours early just to see her.

Ben knocked twice at the bedroom door. He was the gatekeeper, but then, it was his bedroom. Ben never stayed, though. He let the boys in and then took off until everyone had finished. He was the only one of the bunch not married and never had been. So far as Tawnie knew, he never wanted to be.

He opened the door enough so he could see in but the others couldn't and asked, "Ready?"

She blew him a kiss as her answer.


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