Thursday, December 20, 2012
New Release: Come Play With Me
Isn't he nice? I rather like the way his thumb is positioned to suggest he's about to reveal a little more. As you may have gathered, I have a story in this collection. 'On Wednesday's We Play' is all about sex and escapism. It's about being imaginative and not being too old to play games. The characters first appeared in Enticement as a set of naughty neighbours, and I liked them so much I thought it would be fun to explore just exactly what they liked to get up to in more detail. There's a little excerpt below, but let me also tell you that the collection also includes stories by the fabulous Justine Elyot, Lux Zakari and others.
Get your copy at one of these places: Amazon.com | Amazon.co.uk | Barnes & Noble
Excerpt from 'On Wednesday's We Play'
When the hood comes off, the light from the naked bulb stings my eyes like the radiance from a thousand suns. At first, his face is merely a black spot that eclipses the glare. Around me the air smells of damp earth and concrete and things that live in the ground. Where are we? There’s a familiarity about the place. Are we underground?
Cellar…? We’re in Jason’s cellar, where he keeps his wine, his amp and his toys.
Why are we in the cellar?
Unable to do much else, I blink, and slowly the blurred coloured spots clear from my vision to reveal the hard planes of a face: a narrow Roman nose, and eyes the green of tinted glass. Not Jason’s face, but someone far more familiar. Someone I see everyday at work, and with whom I pass the time of day by the photocopier. Only now he’s neither bespectacled nor business-suited, and his wavy brown hair has lost out to a buzz cut. I stare up at Saul in wonderment and confusion. His aquiline brow is rent down the middle by a tight, silvered scar, but what truly grabs my focus is his mouth. Thinned by his current expression, his lips nevertheless form a perfectly plump cupid’s bow. He has the lips of a kiss happy hooker. The rest of him, dirty great army boots, bracers worn over a dusky khaki shirt, is all mean brute. The image truly suits him.
'Comfortable?’ He tests his ink stained knuckles against the ridge of my jaw, just putting enough pressure into the action to nudge my chin upwards. ‘I asked you a question.’
As if I can reply with my mouth sealed with tape. Well, I suppose I could nod my head. Not that I am comfortable. I’m distinctly uncomfortable, knowing neither why I’m here nor what’s to come. When I struggle, ropes bite into my wrists and ankles, the coarse fibres unmercifully irritating the bare skin. Yep, uncomfortable—just as I like it.
‘Freya—t-t-tut.’ He clicks his tongue as if he’s faintly amused by my wriggling. Certainly, it will take far more than a dainty shuffle to release me. His smile stretches impossibly broad showing off coffee-yellowed teeth, as he snatches up a clipboard and leafs through the notes there. ‘What a bad girl you’ve been, siphoning money from the company tea account, cheating all your fellow employees of their daily brews. Shame on you.’ He throws the clipboard aside and it skitters across the concrete floor. ‘So, what’s it been going on…shoes, this rather fetching dress?’ We both glance down at the stretchy red fabric that hugs my skin, and I finally understand who left me the note and why I was asked to dress so provocatively. I’m playing the corporate thief, caught with my hand in the cookie jar. I guess it’s nicely grounded in reality, since I have borrowed from the fund recently.
A trail of sweat chills the space between my breasts as Saul’s fingers creep across my cheek. He rips the tape from my mouth.
‘What do you want? Ouch! That hurt.’
Saul stands tall again, and slowly shakes his head. ‘You know it’s lucky for you that it was me who found out about your little siphoning scheme and not one of the other pen-pushers who’d have gone straight to the management.’
‘You mean, they don’t know?’
More sweat prickles across my shoulders as he holds my gaze, neither confirming nor denying whether he’s snitched to the higher ups. The regular management will have my arse for this. I see the word ‘thief’ stamped across my employment records and the dole queue looming.
‘What do you want?’ I repeat my earlier question, my voice softer now, as I slide into the part. Although, I already suspect I know the answer. I’ve seen the way he ravishes me with his gaze whenever we meet. Sexual favours in exchange for his continued silence.
‘You know, I’ve always wanted a playmate,’ he says, not entirely answering. ‘Someone I could use entirely for my pleasure. Someone I could be entirely selfish with.’
Suddenly, he’s right up close again. The hiss of his warm breath troubles the sensitive skin of my ear, so close that I imagine the brush of his whore’s lips and maybe the catch of a tooth to snag my already heightened senses. I’ve frigged myself to sleep at night thinking about his lips and seeing them wrapped around one of my nipples. I’ve even added in the detail of being handcuffed and his to utterly possess. Keeping him sweet will hardly be a chore, assuming the odd blowjob is what we’re proposing here and nothing more.
One strong hand settles upon my shoulder as Saul circles behind the crude wooden chair to which I’m bound. He breathes in the scent of my hair, presses a kiss to the crown of my head, and then licks the sweat from the back of my neck.
‘Free me, and I’ll work some magic on you now.’
He laughs at that. ‘I daresay you can work plenty of magic, Sugar Lips, but being at your mercy ain’t the plan. I think I’ll stick with calling the shots. It amuses me to see you trussed up and unable to stop my hands wandering anywhere they choose.’ He folds his fingers over my right breast and squeezes hard. Lust shoots through my cunt in response, making everything clench. Most guys are too gentle with my nipples, not Saul. His rough manipulation sends sharp spikes of pleasure through my breasts, so they are left tingling and steepled. Fear combines with anticipation as he works the nipple roughly between his thumb and the side of his index finger.
This isn’t how I like to play the game. I like to be in control of my submission. Blowing him would have left me on my knees in a position of power. This just leaves me helpless.
How far does he intend to go? Will he hurt me? Will I enjoy it?
I tell myself that I won’t lie still. I won’t let him do anything I don’t want him to do, but with him positioned behind me, I can’t even rock the chair enough to free myself of his hold upon my breasts. Instead, I’m forced to endure.