Showing posts with label anal sex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anal sex. Show all posts

Thursday, May 24, 2018

Book Spotlight on Spice & Vanilla by Katherine Wyvern #LGBTQ #GenderQueer #BDSM @katherinewyvern


Dear Elyzabeth, thank you for having me here today to talk about my new release, Spice & Vanilla, this is the darker, naughtier sister of my previous release, Woman as a Foreign Language, but it can be read as a complete stand alone.

The BDSM element in Spice and Vanilla came about in part because I had just finished reading Katerina Ross’ beautiful novel Tenderly Wicked, so I was in the mood for something a bit spicier than my previous release, and partly because I had this idea for Raphael, the main character, that he would be “in two minds about anything”. He’s gender-fluid, bisexual, and as it turns out, a switch (he is in fact the sort of character that can piss off absolutely every reader on earth, lol). 

I always like sex scenes to carry some of the character building in my stories. I think sex is one of the most visceral things we do in life, and the way we have sex with different people and different sex with the same people at different times can say a lot about us, about our feelings for our partners and where we are in a relationship. You can put so much more than smut in a sex scene (although a good amount of smut is most welcome), and when you stray into BDSM that potential for character exploration rises tenfold, because there are so many more layers to it. Why do we feel the need, in a caring, loving relationship, for giving or receiving pain? Why do power and humiliation become a turn on, even a necessity, at certain times? And can these things add more to our relationships than just a passing kinky thrill? Can they possibly become a way to express feelings we don’t have words for? I do not pretend to have full answers to these questions, but I did enjoy searching for them in the company of such complex characters as Raphael and Hugh.





Blurb:
Time was, when Di could dance all night. Time was, when she could ride any horse in the stable. Time was when she had a fiancée, a future and a home she loved. Until a silver SUV came out of nowhere and broke her life in half.
Well concealed under a sarcastic, spiny hide, Hugh has a darkly romantic, passionate soul. Torn between love and terror, he’s held the talented, elegant, magnetic Raphael carefully at arm’s length since the day they met.
Male or female, men or women, kinky or sweet, top or bottom? Angel or devil? Raphael’s life is a string of unanswered questions. And Lucie, his long-hidden female self, may bring it all together or destroy everything he has.


Be warned: cross-dressing, gender-queer, explicit M/M and M/F sex, anal sex, spanking, flogging, bondage, forced orgasm, sex toys



Excerpt:

Hugh watched him stroking away with great contentment. He was totally worn out after a crazy day at work, and it was not always easy to find the energy to satisfy such an enthusiastic masochist. There were days when he wished Raphael were a bit less fond of being spanked and whipped, but he always did his best to oblige him. The thought of his Raphael going out there looking for release from God-only-knows-whom, and getting hurt for real by some less scrupulous or talented Dom was just unbearable. Still, tonight he would lie back and relax. Mostly. I will have to help him eventually, he thought with a slightly evil grin, but I can take a breather first.
Raphael stroked in perfect tempo. He was one of the most technically exact musicians Hugh had ever played with, after all. Too exact, in fact.
It would do him so much good to let go a bit, to just go with the flow, be wild and imprecise and purely passionate. Then he would not need so much of this.
Tick—tock—tick—tock—tick—tock, went the metronome, and Raphael stroked and stroked. It was a good while before Hugh could tell, from a small furrow between those blond eyebrows, that the unchanging, slow rhythm was beginning to frustrate him. He smiled a bit wider and said nothing, devouring his beautiful quarry with his eyes. He watched, entranced the fluid play of flesh and skin as Raphael’s long pale cock, a nice ruddy purple by now, sank and reemerged into and from his fist, the velvet-like foreskin lapping beautifully over the shinier, silky glans, the testicles bouncing softly to the rhythm as the scrotum was pulled up and released. It was hard to resist the temptation to throw the whole scene to the devil and just take that cock in his mouth and suck it empty.
This is without exception the best use a metronome was ever put to.
Raphael’s body was developing a number of small, charming tics and twitches. He briefly lifted his left knee from the mattress then relaxed again. His right wrist was pulling on the strap from time to time, and his breath was coming in slightly ragged bursts.
Still it took a long time. Too much control, thought Hugh, smiling. Tsk-tsk.
Tick—tock—tick—tock.
He slowly unfolded his hands and moved to sit between Raphael’s legs. He spit on his middle finger and watched Raphael’s face, half hopeful, half anxious, as he slowly approached his anus. He didn’t hurry. He let Raphael wait for it. He would beg, in time, Hugh knew, but there was no need for that, not yet. He finally pressed his fingertip to the twitching, tight, live rose of flesh and felt it jolt and spasm. He massaged it in circles, with relish, and didn’t even try to penetrate it. Raphael was shaking all over, trying to press down on his finger, but there was just so far he could stretch, tied as he was. His belly muscles went taut. They were contracting in random, jerky convulsions. Hugh had never seen anything so beautiful.
Then Raphael missed a beat. His hand had picked up pace, ignoring all orders. Raphael whimpered, trying to compensate to get back in the right tempo. The double change of pace made him squirm all over. He swallowed twice and missed the beat again. This time Hugh slapped the inside of his thigh, very hard. Raphael could take a long regular series of well-spaced blows with relative ease, but a single hard slap coming down out of the blue like that drew a ragged cry from him.
“You do know what tempo means, I asked?” Hugh said, in a plain chatty voice. He had never had any taste whatsoever for histrionics. He was not, he had never been, a theatrical Dom. He wasn’t in it for setting up a show. He just got the job done.
“Yes. Yes!” said Raphael, a bit frantic. He managed to stick to the rhythm for a minute longer, until Hugh gently stuck his finger just within the ring of his anus. All of Raphael’s body twisted, and he lost all track of the cold, mechanical rhythm of the metronome.
And that is exactly what you need, my love . Too much playing by the rules, too much fucking control. You need to find your own tempo, and just let go.
Five or six fast hard strokes followed. Hugh slapped him twice, on his thigh, and, when he turned suddenly, on his butt. And then Raphael came, on the third slap, as he flopped flat on his back again, crying out in pleasure or pain, or both. It was hard to tell. Semen spurted out in beautiful, long, arched white streamers, splattering over Raphael’s belly, chest, and even his face.
It is difficult to aim while being spanked hard.
Hugh watched him coming, avidly.
He was so naked. So vulnerable, so unguarded. Hugh, who felt, every day, that he might shatter like glass, on Raphael’s unearthly, impossibly graceful, self-possessed beauty, lived for these moments, to watch him released of all self-consciousness and all bonds. Strange, how it took a bunch of leather straps to get him to do that.
“Ah, oh, shit. That hurt,” Raphael whispered after a minute. “Not complaining, mind,” he added, with a small edgy laugh, wiping some drops of sperm from his lips and eyebrow.
“Good,” said Hugh, quite composed, despite the erection straining in his pants. Watching Raphael twitching and jolting while covered in glistening semen was not a sight to leave him unmoved. He reached out for the metronome, stopped it and lowered the weight a tad, then started it again.
This was a faster, business-like tempo.
“There you go, hot lips,” he said to Raphael, who was still breathing hard from his orgasm.
“What? Wh—but…”
Hugh gave him a small devilish smile. Raphael was perfectly capable of coming two or three times in one night, but, like most men, he needed a while to recuperate in between. Well, tonight, he wasn’t getting it.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

You can also find an exclusive excerpt on my website, here:


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Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Book Spotlight on Zero Tolerance (Elite Escorts Book 4) by Lynn Burke #BDSM #Contemporary #romance

 NOW AVAILABLE - Book #4 in the Elite Escorts series by Lynn Burke!
Zero Tolerance Elite Escorts #4 by Lynn Burke Publisher: Evernight Publishing Art Work: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art Keywords: Erotic, Romance, Contemporary, BDSM, Suspense *Warning: BDSM, anal sex, anal toys
 As the owner of Elite Escorts, Micah Fox’s material needs are met, but money isn’t everything. Watching his friends all settle down makes him realize he needs a woman of his own. The one thrust into his life, however, is unable to tolerate physical contact. Not exactly the ideal submissive he can dominate. Can he truly be happy without kink in his life? Faced with her new boss, Jasmine Swift experiences a hunger to touch—and be touched—for the first time in twelve years. Psychological baggage from her childhood has always hindered any hope of a normal relationship, let alone one with a man as dominant as Micah. Passion flares to life between them, however, and Jasmine blossoms under Micah’s touch. When her past returns to haunt her present, it threatens everything. Love and peace can be found in true submission if only Jasmine can trust her Sir.
Tense silence zapped between us, but she didn’t lower her head like usual when she seemed uncomfortable. Her pale-green eyes peered at me with a hint of question. Insecurity. But the pupils dominated, and the pulse jumped in her neck. “Have you dreamed about me touching you?” I heard myself ask. So much for inappropriate. “Yes,” she whispered. I wouldn’t touch her, but I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to enjoy every fucking inappropriate bit of information I could get passed her lips. “How?” “You mean how do you touch me in my dreams?” Her low, husky voice rushed the blood to my cock, but I didn’t bother trying to hide the fact she turned me on. I nodded. “Gently.” She swallowed, but held my gaze. “With your fingertips until I grow accustomed to your touch.” “Where do I touch you?” My voice sounded strangled in my ears. “Here.” She lifted her hand and glanced at her palm. “Where else? Put your wine down and show me.” I relaxed back into the chair, legs spread, giving her an eyeful of the hard ridge lining my jeans. Her attention drifted down between my legs, her lips parting on a sharp inhale as her trembling hand set the wine glass on the table beside her. When she sat back, she uncrossed her legs, but kept her thighs together, the darkness beneath the skirt beckoning to me. “H-here.” She trailed her fingers up her arm, over her collarbone where she lingered. Up her neck. Over her lips. I groaned. “Where else do I touch you?” She swallowed, gaze still on my cock, and ran her hand back down her neck and over the swell of her breasts. “Show me.” My Dom voice took over, and she followed the command without hesitation, slipping her hand up inside her tank top. Lower lip between her teeth, she squirmed on the couch, same as when I’d caught her drooling over sex toys online. “Is my touch still gentle?” I asked, my attention glued to the hand moving beneath her shirt, hiding one of the hard nipples pressing against the cotton. “N-not so much.” Her needy tone brought another groan to my lips. “What else do I do in your dreams?” Face red, she closed her eyes. “You suck on my breasts. Bite my nipples.” “And do you like it?” “Yes,” she gasped and clenched her legs together. Fucking heaven, I mused, watching her touch her breasts. I’d never wanted a woman so much in my fucking life. “Are you turned on right now?” She swallowed and nodded. “Where else do I touch you, Jasmine?” “D-down there.” Fuck, yes. “Lift your skirt and show me.” Every tense muscle in my body ached to move, but I held myself still. Waiting. She didn’t even hesitate, but shimmied the skirt up to her hips. Pink, fucking panties. With one finger, she skimmed down the lace covering her pussy from me. “Goddamn,” I groaned, my own fingers digging into my knees. She slid her fingertip beneath the edge of her panties and rubbed up over her clit, a gasp parting her lips and tipping her head back. I found myself stroking my cock through my jeans. “Do I make you come in your dreams, Jasmine?” “Yes,” she whispered, eyes still clenched shut. “Show me how.” With one hand, she pulled her panties to the side. Pink lips glistened beneath a thatch of blonde curls. Drooling, I stroked myself and stared as she pressed two fingers of her right hand into her pussy. She moaned, slowly fucking herself with her fingers, hips grinding her against her hand. “I want to watch you come, Jasmine,” I murmured, lifting my attention to her face as little noises flew past her parted lips. “Open your eyes and look at me.” Panting, she did as told, hazed, pale-green eyes peering my way. A sharp inhale lifted her chest, and her back bowed off my couch. “O-oh!” Her breath caught again, and she shuddered, crying out. I squeezed my cock to keep from blowing my load in my jeans, my blood rushing and ears ringing as she slowly settled, her breaths slowing. “If you ever decide you want me to touch you for real,” I murmured, “you only need to ask.”
OTHER BOOKS IN THE ELITE ESCORTS SERIES:
ABOUT LYNN BURKE:
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.