Hot, Wet and Steamy (individual stories)
Here are the stories you will find on this page. . .
Dark Alpha: Dragonfly
When He’s Inside You
My Stepson is a Naughty Stripper
The Gorgeous Naked Man in my Storm Shelter (Erotic Suspense)
A Xmas Gift: The Sperm Donor
Penetrating my Sleeping Classmate
Open Your Curvy Legs for Me
An Erotic Anthology: The Doctor, the CEO and the Movie Star
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I am not a good man.
I have killed. I have fornicated. I have committed acts of violence.
I have the face of an angel and the body of a god, but a heart of dubious morality.
They call me ‘The Dragonfly’.
She comes into my life again after all those years. My best friend’s little sister.
The last time I saw her, she was a child. But now she has grown up. She’s beautiful. She’s bright. And she has been captured.
ELLA
All I want to do is to find my brother’s killer. Because I am not convinced his fiery death was an accident.
That, and the cryptic message he left his best friend, Tyler: ‘I WANT OUT’.
What does that mean?
I am about to find out, and it is going to almost cost me my life.
Until Tyler comes into it again. Tyler. Dragonfly. Who will never notice me because I’m thin and unattractive and clumsy. I’ve fallen in love with him all over again. My strikingly handsome childhood crush.
And God help me, because I have reason to believe he’s my brother’s killer.
DARK ALPHA: DRAGONFLY is an extremely sensual, standalone Dark Romance short novel.
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She can’t stop thinking of her client, the gorgeous Luke Patterson. The way the light plays on his beautiful features, the way his firm butt flexes when he moves, the way his abdominal muscles tense in their rigid six-pack when he twists his body to look at her teasingly.
Cassie realizes she may even be a little in love with Luke – who has fucked every woman that he knows . . . excepting her.
Tonight, they are in Tokyo. Cassie is going to get a lot more than she bargained for. But is Luke playing one of his games, and can she take the possibly devastating fallout?
This is an erotic romance novelette at 9700 words.
Excerpt:
He never really lets go, this kiss. He prolongs it, and then starts it again.
He’s getting hungrier. A wet tongue snakes out and parts your lips, and you let him come into your mouth, to explore you. There is more urgency in the grip of his hands on you, and your heartbeat rises.
He comes up for air, and that’s when he whispers, “Cassie, please stay with me tonight. I need you . . . ”
He doesn’t wait for an answer but devours you with his mouth again.
His hands fumble at the buttons of your blouse, and you let him. Down there, you are already moist. Very moist. You are squirming with the sensation of it. He lays the two sides of your blouse apart. Your brassiere peeks through – it is black and lacy, not exactly La Perla nor Victoria’s Secret, but you are also glad it isn’t grey and gamey either.
His hands trail lower, and suddenly he’s pushing your skirt up, gathering its folds and bunching them at your waist, exposing your panties with the embarrassing wet patch, and spreading your legs wide apart.
You are open and vulnerable to him now, and you are at the point of no return. You know you want this as much as he does. Possibly more. He stares at you down there, at your barely covered, betraying crotch. You make no move to cover yourself. You are breathing hard, and inside you is a clenching sensation of heat and need and want. He never takes his gaze off your crotch as he slowly peels his T-shirt off. Your heart leaps at the sight of his naked torso. It is a famous one, dissected by the world many times over, with its erotic pointy nipples and smooth hard planes.
He doesn’t touch your crotch. Not yet, even though he is breathing hard. He doesn’t rip your panties off either. He’s the master of the waiting game. His gaze sears through the thin fabric, as though he is memorizing every contour before he strips it off.
“Don’t move,” he whispers, and gets up to go to the table. He grabs the bucket of ice where the champagne has come in, and comes back to kneel in front of you.
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Enter Connor Foley, Dan’s staggeringly handsome 21-year-old son. He secretly works as a stripper with ‘extras’ on the side. After an initially awkward relationship, Maxi can’t help but fall for Connor’s rippled six-pack and firmly muscled butt – despite her true affection for his father.
Connor, on the other hand, is determined to introduce Maxi to the joys of bondage, food play and deep anal sex. But Connor harbors another secret – a dangerous one that will have far-reaching repercussions for the increasingly guilty Maxi.
This is a BDSM novella with a heavy emphasis on bondage and insertion play at 23,500 words.
Excerpt:
With his magnificent cock bouncing up and down, Connor walks to the woman seated at the right upper end of the 'U'. Squealing, she inserts a fifty dollar bill into his leather pouch. He stands still as she grabs his cock and caresses his shaft. Goggle-eyed with desire, she rubs his penile head, until he pulls away, but not before bending his head down to give her a kiss on the lips.
He moves to the woman next to her. She tugs at the clamps around his nipples. She slips another fifty into his pouch and starts to pump his cock with one hand while the other massages his scrotum. Laughing lightly and saying, "You're going to make me come, ma'am', and we can't have that yet," Connor pulls away . . . with mild difficulty. The woman's eyes are glazed with obvious desire.
Connor repeats this by going down the line, so that his pouch continues to be filled to the brim, and his nipples, chest, cock, ass and balls have been probed, squeezed, prodded, tugged and (wo)manhandled every which way they can. Some of the women even try to go as far as inserting their fingers up his ass hole, but he laughingly squirms away from that.
He's two women away from me. He hasn't seen me yet, and I turn my head and flip my long blonde hair over the side of my face. Every rational instinct is telling me to leave now, and yet, I can no more uncurl my legs than get up to walk.
He notices me only when he's being fondled by the woman beside me. He freezes, as I expect. The woman eagerly presses her lips onto his tumescent cock before he can say anything.
Alicia barges in like a schoolmarm. "No, no, no, you can't do that here, ma'am. If you get lucky, you'll get to do it later."
I'm not even going to mull over what she means by that.
Connor doesn't seem to be physically affected by what my neighbor is trying to do to him. He pulls away, and she grabs his cock hard. He finally notices this and gently unclasps her fingers from his iron hard shaft.
"Maybe later, ma'am," he whispers as he bends down to kiss her. She seizes his lips hungrily and squeezes his balls as she responds to his proffered mouth by French kissing him.
With difficulty again, Connor pulls away.
He only has eyes for me as he moves towards me, his penis standing like a sentinel before my breasts. They seem to point straight at my cleavage, revealed like a hidden valley by my woolen blouse.
I'm the only one in the room, aside Alicia, who does not have a fifty waving in her hand. I'm transfixed by Connor's cock before me. He is so close to me that his legs are literally several inches away from my bent knees. His cock is enormous before me, literally begging to be grabbed, squeezed and kissed. I understand why those women didn't want to let him go now. His balls are virtually hairless, and the skin on them is smooth. I can smell the raw sex that he exudes - primal and wanton and ravenous.
I have never seen anything so splendid in all my life. My pussy is a veritable waterfall, and I can feel my fluids trickling down my thighs.
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There are two catches. He doesn't remember who he is and where he came from. And he possesses an unusual and surprising sexual ability that elevates him above all men.
So why is a mysterious government agency which is headed by a beautiful, redheaded woman after him? And why do they declare him psychologically damaged and extremely dangerous?
This is an Erotic romance novella at 29,300 words.
Excerpt:
I wake up to find myself entangled . . . of sorts.
At first, I am totally disorientated. Darkness surrounds me, and for one panicked moment, I think that I have been buried alive. Then I remember where I am and who I am with. My left leg is draped casually over his (I must have unconsciously tossed and turned last night) and my hand is resting upon his bicep.
Oh shit.
It’s not as if I find him abhorrent. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m actually afraid he might find me abhorrent. After all, I’m not even a notch on the scale of his beauty thermometer. The thought of him thinking that I may have been trying to take advantage of him while he was asleep fills me with dread.
I debate whether or not to remove my limbs. He is still breathing deeply and (I think) caught up in the realms of sleep. He does not snore, unlike Kenneth, so it is difficult to gauge his level of consciousness.
I attempt to remove my leg by gingerly bending and lifting it. My knee brushes against something long and hard and I freeze. Is that his – ? No, it can’t be. My heart is thudding so hard against my ribcage that I’m afraid I might wake him on its sheer drumbeat itself. The appendage on my knee (not my most sensitive body part, I can tell you) feels fleshy and warm, and yet stiff. I daren’t put down my leg just in case I disturb him.
And it.
I do the only thing I can. Vaulting my leg up and around, I lift the quilt above our bodies with as little disruption as possible. His bicep is iron hard and just as warm. I long to run my palm over it just to feel the solid flesh within because I reckon I will never touch anything so beautiful again. But of course, I don’t. I withdraw my hand, hoping and praying that I did not wake him.
My movements cause the quilt to rearrange, and he stirs. I freeze again, wondering why I never had the compunction to let Kenneth lie undisturbed in bed this way. He mutters something I cannot hear, and rotates his entire body towards me. Oh shit, shit, shit. His body edges into mine, and his right leg comes up and straddles me. The rock hard appendage that I felt earlier appears again, pressed against my right side – an unmistakably woody presence that leaves me no doubt as to what it is.
I don’t believe it.
He’s having a hard-on with me in bed beside him.
Me? I caused this?
Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I didn’t elicit his erection. He’s still asleep and no doubt dreaming of the beautiful woman (possibly a goddess herself) who shares his bed in the life he left behind. In fact, he’s probably jolted into remembering who he is now. I lie there, the blood thundering in my head. The pulse in my neck is doing a two-beat gallop – ta-thup, ta-thup. The head of his cock in my side jabs my flesh as it moves in tandem with his slow breathing. It’s a prod-withdraw, prod-withdraw kind of back-forth movement that sends feverish images to my brain.
Oh yes. I remember his massive cock quite well. I envision its smoothness, its perfect lines, its ripe masculinity. Then, it had been flaccid. Now, it is completely awoken (even when he has not), raring and charging to go where it usually goes.
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Elise Ratner knows what she wants for Christmas (someone’s genetically superior sperm) and what she doesn’t want (a husband). And who better to cater to her needs than her former high school boyfriend, the gorgeous and brilliant Justin Morgan?
Such a pity he doesn’t know it yet.
Justin is a rising corporate star. His London career is at a peak, and he’s dating his boss’s high maintenance daughter. He loves her, but she’s getting really needy. Like, how many times has he got to convince her that she doesn’t look fat in her kitschy clothing?
Then Elise walks back into his life with a request that is about to turn his well-ordered life upside down.
A XMAS GIFT is a Top 100 Barnes and Noble bestseller. It’s a sexy story about very real people you may relate to that will make you feel all warm and toasty inside!
Excerpt:
The sandwich café is crowded with the lunchtime throng, but they have managed to secure a half-cleaned table at the back. Not exactly the best place for conversation, but she senses that he takes comfort from the familiar surroundings. After all, she did drop quite a bomb.
“So why didn’t you get married?” he asks.
He’s ready to talk, she senses it.
“I did get married.”
He puts down his half-eaten sandwich. She is aware of several women at the other tables giving them surreptitious glances. They’re checking him out, she thinks with a smile. Same old, same old. Some things never changed from high school. She was checking him out plenty too before they got it on.
“You never invited me to the wedding,” he says, keeping his tone light.
She sighs inwardly. He’s hurt, and she knows him all too well. He did always have a predilection for masking how he felt. Justin grew up in a strict home. His father was in the military, and he always gave precise instructions to his boys to ‘handle it like a man’.
“It was a shotgun affair. Reno.”
“He knocked you up?” he says, surprised.
“Not exactly.” She shudders when she thinks of her marriage, but now is not the time to let Justin in on what happened. “It lasted for exactly a year and a half. Let’s keep it at that.”
He nods. He has always been one who respects other people’s privacy. She has always admired this trait of his.
“No kids?”
“Obviously.”
“Thought I’d ask, just in case.”
“What about you? Married?” She knows he’s not, and that’s why she’s here.
“No.”
‘Girlfriend?”
He hesitates before saying, “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” She laughs. “Either you have a girlfriend or you don’t.”
“It’s complicated. Let’s leave it at that.” He smiles without really smiling.
She ponders this. “So . . . would she mind if you . . . contributed your DNA?”
“I didn’t say I was going to do it. It is a huge responsibility.”
“Oh no, it isn’t. Not for you.” She delves into her bag and brings out a bound document. “Read through this and put your mind at ease.”
He scrutinizes the document carefully as she finishes the rest of her sandwich. He finally puts it down and looks up at her. She finds herself admiring his large hazel eyes again – so penetrating and beautiful.
“So why me?” he says. “Why not some anonymous donor from a sperm bank?” She’s prepared for this.
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But Ben’s mother will now be marrying Amy’s Dad in three months. In three months, the bitchy Amy will be in his hair, tormenting him with daily tales of his unworthiness.
When Amy decides to flaunt her almost naked body in a nano-bikini by Ben’s pool one day, Ben comes up with a crafty plan. He will drug Amy and render her asleep, especially since she throws down this challenge to him: “Are you man enough to do what it takes to get me?”
PENETRATING MY SLEEPING CLASSMATE is a 10,000-word, intensely psychological erotica short.
WARNING! This story contains rough sleep sex, erotic non-consent, exhibitionism, oral sex, masturbation, voyeurism and vaginal penetration with mysterious objects. Definitely not for the faint-hearted!
Excerpt:
I’m not particularly strong, but I scoop her up in my arms anyway and half-carry, half-drag her into the house and up the stairs. Her skin is hot and silken to the touch, and I find myself getting hard again just by being in close proximity to her. She smells of sun and the pool and vanilla.
Once upstairs, I flip her onto my bed.
I pause to admire her limp body for a moment, and then I lock the door behind us. I rummage in the drawers of my desk for my Camcorder and set it on my chest-of-drawers beside my Star Wars collectibles. I make sure its lens is focused on the bed.
I press the ‘Record’ button. This will be incriminating, but I’m sure as hell going to record down all this for posterity.
Amy still does not stir except to make like Sleeping Beauty.
I lose no time in shedding my shoes, socks, T-shirt and pants. My cock is as hard as hard can be, and I liberate it from its confines, where it springs up gratefully from my tuft of pubic hair. I stroke it once, twice. Then I slither onto the bed.
My knees depress my mattress. My cock is a bobbing stick in front of my groin.
Amy is easy enough to undress. She is barely even clad, so I undo her top swiftly. Out pop her balloons of breasts – so pert and voluptuous in their stringed casings earlier. Her nipples are gloriously red and as protuberant as cherries. Her areolas are nicely speckled with milk ducts.
I swiftly tear her bottom off as well. Her pussy is as delectable as I imagined it would be, half-revealed as it was earlier. Her clit is a red petal amidst her two succulent wedges of flesh.
Oh, oh, oh, oh.
I don’t even know where to begin.
I plunge my fingers into her labial folds, and am gratified to feel how wet and sticky they are. I rub my fingers back and forth, deep inside her grooves, feeling every undulation and every surface. I scissor her clit between my index and third fingers, compressing the juicy little piece of flesh. It is such a lovely, juicy morsel.
Now I insert two of my fingers into the gaping and very inviting hole below her clit. Her little purse feels like silk as I slide my fingers in. The texture of her vaginal walls is smooth and pliant. I expand my fingers, pushing back her walls in the process. I thrust in as deep as I can go, which is pretty deep. My fingertips brush the hard mouth of her cervix.
She is so very wet, indicating how ready she is – even in her deep slumber.
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So why does his head turn to watch her as he walks past? Why does he ask her out on a mysterious rendezvous?
Michael Pitt is ashamed of his affinities. He likes plus-sized women, but his friends and parents have certain expectations of how a seemingly charmed golden boy should behave . . . in public. He also likes to tie his women up in uncomfortable positions as he makes love to them.
Can Mariel and Michael, two opposites in every way, have any semblance of a relationship?
This is a 20,000-word BBW BDSM Erotic Romance version of the Amazon Erotica Top 2 Bestsellers, OPEN YOUR LEGS FOR ME and THIGHS WIDE APART.
Excerpt:
"You know what BDSM is all about?" he says casually, as if he's talking about the weather.
I nod . . . and then I shake my head slowly.
"I know . . . some theory," I say slowly.
We could have been talking about some project we were planning to write. I don't know. Maybe I will write a thesis about this. Too bad I'm doing Microbiology.
"Just so you know," he says, "I'm a dom these days."
"Dom?"
"Dominant."
Yes. I figured as much. Something in my gut quails, like an undigested food morsel.
"There's a safe word you can use," he goes on. "You see, 'no' doesn't cut it in BDSM."
"I read about that," I say truthfully.
"So what safe word would you like?"
Uh, safe word? He assumes I'm going through with it. I swallow. Well, I am.
I lick my lips. He's still looking at me as if I'm temptation itself. I think he sees me through Impressionist glasses. I must be like one of those plump Renoir lasses. The ones who are gorgeous and eminently huggable. Or the Queen of Sheba, whom I am told is of massive proportions.
"I think I would like 'Sheba'," I say.
My cheeks flame. Now, where did that come from?
"'Sheba' it is. Now, anytime you're uncomfortable with what is happening, I want you to say 'Sheba'."
I nod. Dread settles onto the pit of my stomach. It swirls with the slow churn of acid and exhilaration. Damn it, I am excited. My nerves are jangling in their synapses. How can they not be? I am about to be deflowered all over again. It's a rite of passage. A milestone in my sexual pilgrim's progress.
He seats himself on the couch.
I stand in front of him.
He sprawls, his muscular legs splayed wide open, displaying a firm bulge in between. Oh my God, so fast? The tight denim of his jeans encases this bulge like a wrapper around a rapidly expanding balloon. He wears a white wife beater.
My hands are nervously wringing themselves. Why doesn't he say anything? Do anything? Why does he merely stare at me from that couch as if I'm a piece of meat?
I wonder if he can tell that I've put on fresh panties for this occasion. They're white, lacy and wonderfully girly.
"Take off your jeans," he says, folding his hands behind his marvelous head. His blond hair is cropped short. Swimmer style.
It has started. The mood has significantly changed here. It's as though a whole season has shifted by and we have fast-forwarded to . . . something else. Something darker and rife with infinite possibilities. Like we are role-playing.
Or maybe not.
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UNDERCOVER: EXPOSING THE BAD DOCTOR For her rookie assignment as an investigative journalist, Rachel Gardener is determined to expose a gynecologist with sinister ethics. But she doesn’t expect him to be so handsome or soft-spoken. Or that her medical examination would be so bizarre and psychologically invasive.
UNDERCOVER: STEALING FROM THE SEXY CEO Tim is young, strikingly handsome . . . and a corporate espionage agent. Tasked with stealing a secret blueprint from Anna Scott – a self-made CEO who chews and spits out men for breakfast – he decides to pose as a male maid who has to clean her penthouse . . . in the buff.
WHEN HE’S INSIDE YOU Cassie Harris can’t stop thinking of her movie star client, the gorgeous Luke Patterson. Tonight, they are in Tokyo. Cassie is going to get a lot more than she bargained for. But is Luke playing one of his games, and can she take the possibly devastating fallout?
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