Although I'm half expecting it, the buzzer and red lights scare me half to death as I step through the airport security scanner’s archway. Before I can fully react, a petite female member of staff approaches, taking over from captain buzzcut who had waved me forward. Guess men can't touch women. She ushers me aside and casts a quizzical eye all the way up me. “Señorita, I need to check over you.” She’s achingly European....
Up until the moment she approached, I'd have sworn the answer to can a bikini stop time would be an emphatic no. But in that moment, I change my mind. I’m chilling from the brutal heat of the midday sun in the shade of a walnut tree, lying back on a towel after having cooled off in the nearby lake. My swim shorts are plastered to me, and catching a glimpse of her effortless European chic on the path to my right has an imm...
Though Victoria shared her name with the reigning monarch, the similarities ended there. She very much doubted the ruler would condone—or even contemplate—an outfit such as the one she wore. The ornate gild of the mirror in her chambers framed a woman brimming with inner confidence, unashamed to express her sexuality where others chastised her loose morals, preferring to toe societal norms in dress and values. Cupping the...
People watching is hard to beat. Take that couple across the street from Café Charlot where I sit enjoying the last fingers of Parisian sun casting long shadows along Rue de Bretagne. They're dressed up, probably for the theatre. Polo shirt and slacks. Evening gown. Drink and meal before the performance. A cocktail after. Then back to her place. They're young. Married. Likely to one another, but no guarantees. She's the m...
There's comparative silence in the featureless hotel room. That will soon change. Strip for me. Kneel. There on the floor beyond the bed. Hold my belt in your upturned palms for me, while I circle you. Appraise you. Mmm, so pretty. Now cup one hand between your legs and collect every drip as I spank you with this belt. Yes, right now. I want to mark you. Hear you gasp as the leather slices the air and cracks against your...
The moment I step from the cab, it isn’t just my attire that attracts attention. I ooze sexual energy in the Wiccan-style huntress dress, with Grandmother's sixteen-carat garnet pinned close to my heart. As I strut to the curb and along the sidewalk, wives glare, sensing their mate’s lust for me. I’m the bitch; they’re the unneutered dogs, outlines of their erections visible in some of the pants I pass. But I’m no longer...
Despite its strangling grip, I’m attempting to outrun the darkness again, as futile as that may be. Even when the sun shines, I feel no warmth. But what choice do I have? No one sees the tempestuous clouds hanging over my world, urging me to think there’s no hope. But I refuse to give in to despair. And so, I tell myself, This time will be different. I glance down at my sandals. They are clearly the wrong choice as I stum...
Justine left it a day. She didn't want to appear too eager or desperate. Also, it would give Corey a little time to readjust time zones, though he'd only been to the other side of the country. The day itself was torment. So many warring emotions. How would she pose for him? Would he expect professionalism or provocativeness? Would she strip from the outset or tease him? Did she want to pose completely naked for him? So ma...
Justine flicked her blonde tresses aside and wedged the phone between her cheek and shoulder. “I can meet you in a bit. Like, half ten? Mom reminded me to water Mr. Turner's plants early.” She scrabbled in her cutoffs for the key and lined it up with the back door lock, laughing. “Yeah yeah, that hot guy to our left.” She swung the door and stepped through into the kitchen, the most striking feature being it was so clean...
I keep telling myself she's not my type, but every thrust into her tight arse tests my resolve to the limit. She begs for more, tossing that dark mane with its thick blue highlight, and fires a smouldering look back at me over her navy T-shirt. Her eyes darken with need, knuckles whitening as they hold the far edge of my office desk. “That's not fucking. I told you to fuck me.” My primal side kicks up a notch. I raise bot...
There she is, pure honeyed gold, bang on cue. Third window from the left. First floor balcony. Light spills past her silhouette, a halo projected into the freezing night air, breath frosting ahead of her like the smoke I blow out through the crack of the Lincoln's window. She stares out over the city, all platinum blonde perfection. Searchin’ for something but I'm fucked if I know what. Hopes and dreams, maybe? An end to...
She deserves a treat after the torment I put her body through last night. She was so, so good. Needy and obedient. The bedroom is now silent, save for her rhythmic breathing and the birdsong filtering through the open window. The syncopation between the two sounds creates a natural beat and I let it play out, before slithering under the covers and starting to map her sleeping form. About halfway down her spine, fuschia tr...
After hooking the delicate lace panty mask around my ears, I breathe and blink in the darkness, breeze tappin' the blind against the wooden frame. Her room's a comfort, in a way. Familiar. It must have been my room as a baby. Just a feeling I have; faint memories of Momma holding me in here. Rocking me to sleep. The door’s always shut unless we have company staying over, and this company’s mighty pretty. Annabelle’s her n...
From across my desk, I survey Dave with an arched eyebrow, my pen poised above his manuscript. His earthy, rugged appearance translates well to the back flap of dust jackets and is certainly a large part of his brand appeal. That's not to devalue his top-notch thriller writing, but he's easily eleven on the eye candy scale; a far cry from the usual potato-faced ex-lawyers, ex-policemen, or ex-cons who grace my doorstep wa...
Guys like me don’t land girls like Annika by chance. It's not the natural order. Divine intervention? Fate? Karma? Blind luck? Pick your crutch. The fact is, it happened. And it changed my life. I tap out a vertical line of coke, ending an inch above her slippery clit, snort and chase the high by burying my tongue in her bald pussy as she clutches my nape. She arches against me, clamps her thighs and begs for more, thrash...
