In honor of Miss Blisse's Blisse Kiss extravaganza, and my first Blisse Kiss ever, I have a copy of Double Booked to give away to a commenter. Tell me about your best kiss at the beach. (If you already have Double Booked you may choose a book from my back list, 2011 or older). Contest will end June 30th and I'll contact a winner so please make sure to leave a valid email address for me.
Kiss excerpt from Double Booked:
“Let me see you, then,” he growled. It was soft but forceful. And I jumped just a little I had been so entranced.
“I…” What? Didn’t want to? Wanted to? Was embarrassed? I didn’t know. The words died on my lips.
“Come on. You want to. You’re trembling. You’re flushed. And I know there’s no way in hell you’d let me fuck you…yet.”
I swallowed hard and brushed my sweaty blond hair out of my face. He didn’t wait for an answer. He came forward, lifted me up by the hips and planted me on the counter. My ass connected with the Formica with a dull bump. He hiked my nightie up and crushed it around my hips. A pale blue, fabric tutu. With his big hands he forced my thighs wide and when I gasped, his eyes met mine and he smiled.
“I won’t touch,” he said. But his eyes ate me alive. I felt them as if they were fingers, roving over the swollen flesh of my nether lips, peeking deliberately at the forceful, curious nub of my clit. He grabbed his cock firmly again with his fist and began to stroke. Letting his eyes touch me where his hands would not. He was close enough that I could feel heat radiating off of him like a stone that had been baking in the sun. Not close enough to touch, though. Or spook me.
I gave in to what I wanted and licked my finger. I started circling my clit in time with his stroking.
“Ah, that’s right. Just like that. Keep time with me. You’re so wet.” His voice was hoarse and his eyes were still hungry. They stayed glued to my cunt, only breaking to dart up to meet mine. His eyes were the same color as moss that grows in the shade. “I want you to come with me, Blyth. Can you do that?”
Though I wondered where my sanity had suddenly gone. And I wondered why I was masturbating on a kitchen counter in front of a virtual stranger, I nodded. I nodded because I knew I could. And I wanted to. And I would.
I was vaguely aware when my other hand joined the fray. I let my finger slide into my cunt. Wet and warm and twitching I was so close. I kept my eyes locked on his fist and his cock. The jut of his slender hips. The way his thighs flexed and relaxed the closer he got. His cock, now a deep purple shade, was the most fascinating thing I had ever seen. I had never really paid attention to all the subtle changes. Now I did. The deepening color, the veins standing out. The contrast of his tan hand on the flesh of his dick. I watched him cup his balls and heard his breath rasp in and out of him like it was difficult for him to breathe.
Without thinking, I added another finger to the first. I circled my clit with my fingers. Working it hard and fast the way I liked it. Tight circles with lots of pressure. I flexed my fingers deep in my pussy, seeking and finding the hard spongy G-spot, so swollen from watching him. I stroked it perfectly, timing my orgasm to the one Anthony was about to have.
“Almost there, babe,” he growled and planted his free hand a bare inch from my thigh on the counter. His eyes mere slits, his jaw taut, he watched my hand. When his body bowed and he let out a long groan, I pushed firmly against my G-spot and let go. Let my body trip over that line.
“Now, Blyth,” he said and his come shot out. Warm sprays of rich cream on my thighs. On the counter. I came with him, his semen so hot it felt like it would burn me. My cunt clutched around my fingers as I gave my own sounds of pleasure up to the silent kitchen.
A few moments of silence and I lowered my nightgown. My face was hot, my heart thudding almost painfully.
“Wow,” he said. His eyes now staring directly into mine.
I nodded and laughed softly. “Yeah, wow.”
Then he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. Almost a brotherly kiss. Not the kind of kiss one would expect from a man who had just watched you finger fuck yourself. Or a man who had just jacked off in front of you.
I wanted to grab him and kiss him. It dawned on me that I had never seen a man do that before. Not to conclusion. Unless you count porn movies. There was something extremely trusting in the act. I wanted to say that but kept my mouth shut.
“That’s about all you can handle right now,” he said and brushed my hair across my forehead. “But I’ll be back. And you won’t get away with just masturbation.”
“Is that a threat?” I laughed as he started to walk to his bedroom. My pathetic attempt at a joke.
“Nah. It’s a promise.” He grinned at me and started to shut the door. Then he paused, “And Blyth…”
“You need a shower. You smell like sex, darling.”