“Ophelia the Second” is Out in Best Women’s Erotica!

Posted on January 6, 2016January 18, 2016 by Jade A. Waters

New year, new sexy…and today I’m delighted to share that Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1 is out! Woo hoo!

To celebrate, I have some news for you.

First, just look at that sexy cover. *Swoon!*

Then, our wonderful editor Rachel Kramer Bussel has been hosting some behind-the-scenes Q&A’s about our stories in the anthology. My story, “Ophelia the Second,” is a sweet little erotic romance set in the theatre world—specifically, the Hamlet backstage theatre world—and since I have my own past theatre experiences, I thought I’d put them to use for some inspiration. I hope you’ll head over to the book’s Tumblr page to find out more about what sparked this story.

I’m also thrilled to tell you that we’ll be having a live free reading of a few stories in Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1 in San Francisco on Tuesday, January 19th. It will be in the Antique Vibrator Museum in the Good Vibrations on Polk Street—which, I have to tell you, is a fabulous space for a reading! I do hope you’ll join us, since I’ll be reading alongside Rose Caraway, Amy Butcher, Dorothy Freed, and Rachel Kramer Bussel herself! Be sure to find out more about this event right here.

And finally, what more to whet your appetite for this book than an excerpt?

Here’s a taste of “Ophelia the Second”:

“We always end up on a couch together, have you noticed?”

I laughed, trying to ignore the delicious smell of his post-show sweat, and the way the couch dipped under his sturdy, muscular body, almost pulling me into his side. He’d changed after curtain into jeans and a button-up shirt with the fanciest of shoes, and he looked even more impressive in his modern garb than he did in his lace-up leather doublet and boots.

“Guess so,” I said.

I sipped the bourbon. It was hot going down, warming me more than I already was sitting in Philip’s apartment with him staring at me with those heavy Hamlet eyes. I attempted to ignore the fight of my heart. I was usually so strong at resisting these terribly silly impulses around him, but it was impossible not to want him, not to imagine Hamlet speaking to me, or Philip taking my hand, pining for my love like his character did later on for Ophelia.

I suddenly felt like her—a naïve girl caught in the throes of some wild vision. It wasn’t madness, though it felt like it as he surveyed me.

“Good show tonight, huh?” I asked, needing yet again to get out of my head.

“Yeah. Tammy was on fire.”

I propped my elbow on the back of the couch and frowned. He knew I didn’t want to hear about Tammy or her wonderful efforts playing Ophelia—I’d confessed it over brews a month ago when he took me out to celebrate a five-star review from one of the most critical journalists in the business. For some reason, Philip had been more surprised at the review than my frustrated comments with Tammy’s rude backstage behavior.

“But it makes sense—whenever she’s a maniac off stage, she’s prepped for the role.”

I snickered, a loose spiral of my hair falling in my face. Philip caught it in his fingers and brushed it back, and I stared at him, surprised.

“We should have been on stage together,” he murmured.

I shrugged.

“Robert’s going to come around, Nat. Hopefully with the next show. You’ve got the talent.”

“You’re sweet,” I said. I took another swallow of my drink and placed the glass on his coffee table. Philip caught my hand.

“I saw you in the wings tonight.”

I froze. I’d been subtle, and he’d been so into his role I couldn’t imagine how he’d seen me.

“You know I see you there, right? Mouthing the lines, both mine and Ophelia’s.”

He clasped my hand in his and a fire sparked deep in my belly. Had the bourbon gone to his head?

Had it gone to mine?

“I’m convinced my best moments on stage are with you watching.”

“That’s silly,” I said, but Philip nodded enthusiastically.

“You should have been Ophelia. You’re perfect for the part. Your hair, your face. Everything about you, Nat—so charming and lovely.”

I trembled in his grasp. Like Ophelia, I had to be going mad. Philip brushed back my curls, lifting the hair on the nape of my neck.

“Let’s run lines for you.”

“Why? Tammy is Ophelia, and she’s never going to miss a performance. Remember?”

“Tammy is a terrible Ophelia. And one night, she will.” He tapped my nose. “Come on. Let’s practice.”

“I need a script.”

“No you don’t,” he said. He shoved back the table and crawled to his knees, ushering his husky off to his bed along the wall.

And then he started running lines, beginning with Act III, Scene 1, right when Ophelia meets Hamlet. He said his first line seriously, as if we were actually on stage, and I shook my head at him.

“You’re crazy.”

Philip frowned. “I’m trying to prove a point. You’re an actress, let’s go. Play along.”

I’d been on the stage many times. I’d graduated with a theatre degree, after all, but my parts at Esquire had been minimal with Tammy being the star she was. Sometimes, her rants backstage and constant insults made it easy to forget that I was once a big part of productions, too.

“Well?” Philip nudged my leg and took my hand again, and I tried to ignore the peal of my heart.

“Fine,” I said.

We ran through this scene, Philip’s hand clasped around my shaking fingers the entire time. He was theatrical and gorgeous, his brow furrowing and his nostrils flaring at all the appropriate moments. When he peered into my face, I witnessed the same brooding depth he cast over the audience each night, except this time, it was directed at me.

This time, he was Hamlet—and I was Ophelia.

It was easy to fall into the part. I knew the lines, and he was brilliant, drawing emotion and depth into my voice that I could never do when I practiced on my own in my apartment. Not without someone acting against me, getting as into the role as he did. He was magnificent. When we finished the scene, he stroked his fingertips across my palm with an encouraging nod. Then his lips turned up to form the incredibly charming grin the audience never got to see.

“Lady, shall I lie in your lap?”

I giggled. “Okay, I get it. Great scene. We can stop, though, I know the lines.”

“See,” he said. “You are the perfect Ophelia.”

I rolled my eyes and Philip leaned closer, the movement catching my breath in my throat. Both of us were quiet as he crouched on the carpet. For some reason, the way he’d touched my cheek at his front door crossed my mind. Then the way he’d grinned at me at intermission, and all the times we’d hung out backstage when he’d told me he loved talking to me. My pulse raced a little quicker.

Had I missed something in my Ophelia obsession?

Philip curved his hands around my knees, increasing the pace of my heartbeat.

“And what a fair thought to lie between this maid’s legs.”

“That’s not the line,” I whispered. The look on his face was different—not Hamlet. Not Philip. It was sweet and smitten, like the one I’d seen him wear as Romeo last year. I swallowed the lump in my throat as he inched his mouth closer to mine.

“You’re right. It’s not.”

Intrigued?

Please be sure to check out the book’s Tumblr page and order your copy now on Amazon. Thanks for checking out the inspiration for “Ophelia the Second,” and I hope to see you at the reading!

XX,
Jade

Poetry for a Cause!

Posted on November 24, 2015November 24, 2015 by Jade A. Waters

I have always loved writing poetry. It’s been a part of my life since I was young, and in the last few years, I’ve grown so fond of it I knew I needed to launch a secondary site to house all my poetic words. So, when the fabulous poet Ashley Lister put out a call for Coming Together: In Verse—a collection of erotic poetry to benefit Hope for Paws—I knew I simply had to take part.

Coming Together: In Verse is a sexy new anthology out today, filled entirely with erotic poetry and risqué verse—be it sultry, comedic, romantic, or filthy. On top of that, the poets involved are ones who will surely rock your world, and sales proceeds go to support a cause that’s dear to me, too—animal rescue! I’m thrilled to have three brand new poems in this anthology—”Colours,” “Farther,” and “Longing”—and to whet your appetite, I have some special surprises for you, too.

First, I’m revealing “Longing” over on my poetry site—it’s the shorter of my three poems included in Coming Together: In Verse. But then, I’m reading you “Longing,” too…because of course, poetry is meant to be heard. 😉 You can find the audio either on YouTube or on my poetry site.

Once you’re finished with both of these book release treats, I hope you’ll really make me purrrrr…by heading over to Amazon to grab your copy of this gorgeous new anthology. Sexy poetry, good cause—how can you pass it up?

I very much hope you enjoy “Longing,” and thank you for your support!

XX,
Jade

How Does it Feel to be Bound, My Love?

Posted on August 11, 2015August 11, 2015 by Jade A. Waters

I have never been all that quiet about the origin of my stories. Many of them are purely fictional, or fantasies I’ve dreamed up, conscious or not—but a few are retellings of true events, actual encounters I’ve twisted to be better, or on occasion, semi-fictionalized redos of things I’ve been lucky enough to enjoy in real life.

Today, I’m delighted to tell you that Bondage Bites is officially out—it’s a new title edited by the amazing Alison Tyler, and published by Cleis Press. To say I am over the moon to be in an Alison Tyler collection is a massive understatement…but to get to say I have three short shorts in this anthology—all connected to my personal life—basically has me giggling. Er, grinning. No, blushing.

Okay, maybe a combination of all three!

So, to celebrate the release of this hot anthology of super short stories, I will give you some dirt—that is, I’ll share a snippet of all three stories, each with a taste of the reality that inspired them.

Here we go!

First, with the tamest personal connection of the three tales:

“The Gate”

A few years ago, I went on vacation to Italy. I traveled throughout the country, but I got particularly caught up during my stay in Tuscany, where I had a rental car to check out everything in the area I could. (This song came out during my stay, and it become my driving theme, if you’re curious.) One night, while dining at this incredible family owned place in Poggibonsi, I spotted a rather magnificent storefront gate in an alleyway that got my gears turning. The waiter commented at one point that I had a nice blush on my face, and—based on the scene running through my head—I can’t say I was all that surprised. So, after finishing dinner and taking a beautiful stroll under the moonlight, I went back to my villa and wrote out a snippet of the entire fantasy I’d envisioned and then sent it to my lover back home.

Once the vacation ended, I decided that wasn’t enough. I needed to turn the whole thing into a full story, which soon became “The Gate”…

When you gestured back at the gate, I understood why you’d brought your backpack to dinner. The flush that spread through me couldn’t be from the wine—not after only two sips—and I wanted to rush to feel the surprise you had in store. Still, I knew the longer we took, the quieter the alley would be.

We took forever, too. No one seemed to mind the leisurely American couple, or the way we didn’t speak, just stared at one another with half-grins while you stroked my hand. When we finished, we wandered around the cobblestone center hand-in-hand. It wasn’t until past one that you led me back to the gate.

“I haven’t seen anyone for almost an hour. Are you ready, Mara?”

I nodded. My role now was to remain still, which is what I did as you removed the cuffs from your bag. I clenched my knees together, feeling a charge clamor up my thighs and straight into my pussy over the thought of being seen, and of what you would do to me once you bound me here.

You grinned under the street lamps as you fastened me to either side of the gate, and once I was secure, your hands roamed around my neck and down my back. Then you kissed me and lifted my skirt, stroking my thighs right there in public. You gripped me, kneaded me, your breath hot on my cheek. You took my gasp as an invitation and slipped your fingertips under my panties, nudging them aside so you could feel how wet I was for you—and moaning when you discovered my short curls soaked through.

I wanted you to touch me deeper, but you liked to string it out. You whispered, “How does it feel to be bound, my love?”

Strangely, I didn’t take a picture of that gate—but I have never forgotten how gorgeous it was, or the way it felt to just sit there drinking wine in the pleasant breeze, dreaming up a scene that I later got to flesh out in a full tale.

Okay, next up:

“Safety Shears”

This one has a bit of a funny back story because, well, in truth…

Bondage accidents happen.

Lucky me, I happened to experience one such accident—which had my doctor and I exchanging some seriously hilarious emails for a solid week after it happened. The good news is that all was okay after a little stretch of time, and safety shears found their way into my closet for the next time. *Cough.*

Now, while I feel it’s important to remind that fiction is not meant to be an instructional guide, I can’t speak highly enough about owning a pair of shears.

And it’s from that recommendation that “Safety Shears” was born:

“I think it’s okay,” she said, clenching a hand, then releasing it. She smiled at him. “You have the safety shears handy, right?”

He nodded, jumping off the bed to show her that he did indeed have them, right there on the nightstand. When he stood upright, the glow from her lamp cast the sexiest of shadows over his abdomen, enhancing the results of all the working out he’d done of late. He was such a pleasure to look at, the most handsome lover Julia had taken in years. And with the eager way he stared at her, he’d proven delightful in more ways than one.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to give you carpal tunnel. Or anything worse. Can you imagine?” Matthew chuckled and crawled between her thighs again, but now he grew serious, quiet. He admired his work. “Dear God, you’re beautiful like this.”

Julia had only been cuffed before, but something about Matthew made her want to submit to his every whim. He’d spent the last twenty minutes binding her like a man possessed, stopping every so often to caress her face or brush back her hair. Twice he’d slipped a finger inside her, testing her and moaning at how her pussy flinched around him. “Please, Matthew, fuck me,” she’d cried, and he’d hurried back to the business of tying her up. Now he ran his hands over her inner thighs and down to her ankles, fondling the rope that connected them to her wrists. Instead of the traditional hog or frog tie, he’d left her on her back with her legs splayed and her thighs free so he could more easily access her. And he did just that, tracing back from the ties and over her belly, then circling his fingers around her nipples and making her gasp.

“I need you,” she whispered.

Ah, safety shears…

Okay, finally, it’s time for what may be my most favorite (and definitely the most personal):

“In the Morning”

For this story, I opted to try something I’d never done before—I took an old lust letter I’d sent to a lover and converted it right into a story. 🙂 Not to worry, though! No boyfriends were harmed in the making of this story. I warned the recipient, way back then, that I’d probably end up doing this at some point—and he totally got a kick out of the idea. See, when we dated, we were supremely open to sharing fantasies, and if we weren’t speaking them in bed, we were sharing them in emails, via text, or on the phone…. Some of them got acted out, and others didn’t, but suffice it to say that “In the Morning” is a tale fully based off a real email I sent during our very memorable affair:

Somehow, he’d shifted my arms behind my back without me ever stirring. Now he patted my wrists in satisfaction with the knots he’d pinned me in, and I felt an immediate rush of warmth between my thighs.

“I told you what I expected in the morning, darling.”

Without another word, Gabriel crawled off the bed and stepped behind me. He’d bound me so many times before, and every time, I felt this way—this desperate longing, this hunger for his touch. The heat from my pussy seared up through me, and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to feel him, to lose myself in the way we moved together.

“Come to me,” he said.

I squirmed beneath the covers, my arms pinned too closely to my back for me to use them in any useful fashion. I managed to roll to my side and slide off the bed, landing on my knees directly in front of him. Gabriel was naked, his beautiful prick swollen and upright before my face.

“Show me how much you want me, Katharine.”

I grinned. Even bound like this, that would be an easy feat—I always wanted him, each second of every day. I wiggled closer, my balance off with my hands bound, and then I took him in my mouth. I swallowed him, licked him, wanting to devour every inch of him, and dear God, he tasted so delicious on my tongue, so tantalizing when I couldn’t grab onto him or stroke his length. He jumped and jerked between my lips and I moaned, because I still wanted him so much more…

And there you have it! A small sampling of three stories that are pretty damn connected to my real life. Please pick up a copy of Bondage Bites not only to read these stories in their entirety, but to check out all the fabulously hot bondage short-shorts you’ll find within. Alison Tyler is a phenomenal editor, so this collection is, no doubt, going to be a huge hit. You can pick up a copy at Amazon and other retailers today, and I hope you enjoy what you find!

Thank you so much for reading!

XX,
Jade

Best Erotic Romance of the Year – Out Now!

Posted on July 17, 2015July 17, 2015 by Jade A. Waters

Great news—Best Erotic Romance 2015 is officially out today, and I’m tickled to have “Fertile” included in this hot anthology from Cleis Press! This one is edited by Kristina Wright, an amazing author and editor. I’ve been mesmerized by her stories and anthologies for so long, I damn near fell out of my chair when she accepted “Fertile” for this book. Talk about a huge honor!

So, to commemorate release day, I thought I’d share a brief behind-the-scenes and excerpt.

As is usually the case for me, this story came to life with a spontaneous line that popped into my head…at the gym, no less. I was in a dim room at a gym while I worked it on a spin bike. I wasn’t in a class or anything—but suffice it to say I was torturing the crap out of myself (I was a fitness junkie back then), and, standing on those pedals, sweating like a fiend, it happened.

Wham!

“The bitch is in heat.”

As usual, I had no idea where this line came from. But as I pumped it on that bike for the remaining 20 minutes—because I couldn’t very well stop my workout to write this stuff down—I sorted out a loose sketch of a wife very much desperate to have a second child with her affectionate, loving, and extraordinarily patient husband.

And from that, “Fertile” was born!

To be clear, the line The bitch is in heat does appear in the story, but you’ll have to read it to find it where. 😉 For now, though…

Read an excerpt of “Fertile”:

“I’m sorry for teasing you, but you can’t pressure me like that. You can’t treat me like I’m your sperm donor, babe. It’s the most cliché bullshit in the world.”

“I don’t….” She really didn’t, but the pained look on his face made her cringe. His hands, meanwhile, were making it impossible to have this conversation. Her hormones had become a raging inferno that made nothing but his touch important at this moment.

“You do.” Jerry crept his fingers further, straight toward her aching entrance. Tiny tendrils of heat burned down her thighs as he snuck one finger inside and barely tickled her with the end of it.

“Jerry,” she whispered. She wanted his whole finger, his whole hand, and then, the hard bulge she knew he’d formed in his pants. He’d always been ready to go at a moment’s notice, making his extended delay to give in so much more frustrating.

Instead of answering, Jerry pressed his mouth over her, on top of his splayed fingers. His breath came through the fabric like a gust of hot wind, sending goose bumps over her chest. He paused, his mouth so dangerously close she was ready to tear off her own panties if he didn’t soon.

Jerry pulled back. “I know I’ve been bugging you for months, partly because you get so flustered, but also because you’ve badgered me.”

“Because—”

He cupped his mouth over her and she moaned.

“I know why. And I did want what you want. I do want it, but dammit, Sheila, treat me like your husband.” He grabbed the top of her panties and shook his head. “Like you want me because I’m a man, not a machine.” He inched the elastic waistband down over her hips and Sheila pressed her hands to her face. Embarrassment burned in her cheeks and down through to her core, and when he just kept staring at her, she trembled. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She wanted to believe she couldn’t understand much of anything with her sex exposed to the cold air of the room, but watching Jerry—this beautiful man, the father to their child, the one who had worked so hard so she could stay at home with Daniela like she’d always wanted—she could see why he’d teased, and why he’d pulled away for so long.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“I am, too.” Jerry nodded, then let her panties drop to the floor.

Sheila sucked in a breath and lay still. The hormones pummeling her nerves demanded she pay attention, but she wasn’t about to ignore Jerry’s frustration. Not with his eyebrows knitted together and his lip caught between his teeth as he pondered his next move.

“Jerry?”

He didn’t say anything, then reached up to grasp her hips. He laid his mouth over her, this time covering her completely.

“Oh god.”

Jerry flicked his tongue over her clit. “Do you want more?” he asked.

Sheila forced her head up. “Do you have to ask?”

He slicked his finger from her swollen nub to the base of her slit. “Tell me, then.” When he drew his finger over her, his expression softened. “I love the way you look right now, but I need to know you want it.”

“Yes, yes, I want it,” Sheila said. “I do.”

I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading!

This edition of Kristina Wright’s Best Erotic Romance 2015 is sure to be a sexy one—and you can pick up your copy right here!

XX,
Jade

The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30 (Part Two) – “The Doll”!

Posted on June 11, 2015June 17, 2015 by Jade A. Waters

Yesterday, I told you a bit about “The Bells”—the first of my two stories in Rose Caraway’s freshly released The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30. As promised, today I’m back to talk about “The Doll,” a piece that is dear to my heart in a far different way than my fascination with famous queens and historical torture methods.

The alternate (and possibly temporary) Dirty 30 ebook cover

This one is much more personal.

I’ve had many relationships in my life, and I’m sure I’m not alone in saying some have definitely left me more wobbly than expected once they ended. “The Doll” is a play off something I said after one such relationship—a fairly complicated affair that, in truth, both opened my mind and turned me completely inside out. It’s a love I’ve come back to a lot in my head, one that’s inspired several things and that will undoubtedly continue to do so for a long time to come.

While I’ve since healed from this relationship, the period after it ended required a ton of strength to wash it all out of my system. Over and over, I told those close to me I felt broken afterwards. I likened the experience to having finally come alive, but said that afterward I felt like a crumpled up, abandoned marionette that was no longer able to dance.

And it was from that analogy that “The Doll” was born.

I scribbled a few notes after I said all this to a friend one day, and I guess it turned out that—devastated or not—my writer brain was still working, turned on in ways I couldn’t even begin to comprehend as hurt as I was. Somewhere in my subconscious, I was crafting an image of what the experience really felt like to me.

It took a long while for me to sit down and write this story because it was so close to me, but once I did, it morphed into something I hadn’t expected. It was no longer just a story about a doll coming to life, and somehow it went from literary erotic spec fic to allegory in a matter of pages. Like “The Bells,” it came to me in a single sitting—but when it was over, I exhaled a different kind of sigh than I had for the other piece. This story was more personal, more tender, and in so many ways, incredibly healing for me to put to page.

So…there you have it: my story behind “The Doll,” one of my most favorite pieces written to date.

To celebrate its release into the world, I’d love to share an excerpt with you.

From “The Doll”:

When Asif’s ex-wife swung by to drop off his alimony check, she’d pointed at the marionette with a frown.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Another doll to add to this crap?” She’d waved her hands about the apartment lined with shelf upon shelf of handmade dolls. “You’re obsessed with fixing the fucking dolls, and you don’t make any money with them. Plus, this one’s broken.” She’d lifted the doll’s leg, quick to point out the broken strings that barely kept her right foot hinged to her ankle. “You’re ridiculous, Asif,” she’d said, and then the door had snapped shut behind her.

But Asif knew she was wrong with this one, and when he turned his focus back to the doll, he spoke to her in hushed tones.

“You’re beautiful. These breaks are what give you character.”

She seemed to nod at him, confirming what Asif already knew in his many days of watching her—she was his darling to tend to, to cherish, and to love.

In the coming weeks, Asif discovered more of Henrietta: the chips of two fingernails, ruined beyond repair, and the space above her ear where a lock of hair had been violently removed, leaving the wood beneath ragged and raw. Asif tried to heal these wounds, and when he couldn’t, he’d prop her beside him at the table and speak to her with tender words meant to coax her from inside her wooden casing. Because—despite the nails and the missing strand of hair, and the broken string that left her right foot flailing when he tried to dance her around his flat—he loved her.

“You’re real beneath that shell,” he said one night, his voice a lonely whisper as he dipped his paintbrush, and then in a painstakingly slow manner, drew the paint in delicate sweeps to fix the liner smudged beneath her eye. “I can see it, Henrietta. I can feel it. I just wish you’d know how safe you are with me.”

The marionette’s eyes struck Asif as brighter, two brown stars against her pale wooden face. He set down the brush and took her slim fingers into his, stroking them, smiling at them, and then bobbed his head with conviction.

“I believe you’re more, my love,” he said.

A rustling came through the open window then, stirring a lock of her hair, and Asif caught it in his fingers. He fondled the wisp from root to tip as though it was real. As though she was real. And when Henrietta gazed back at him, Asif heard her silent plea for more.

Quietly, he lifted his fingertips to her brow. He traced several strands of her hair, from the knots binding it into her wooden scalp and down through to the ends, and as he did her hair began to lighten and silken. Moved by this, Asif slid his entire hand into her hair. He twined his fingers with the strands and brushed them back from her face, and each ringlet followed the course of the first—the flaxen coarseness becoming shiny and free, like the satiny strands of a woman’s hair. Even the knots on her scalp loosened, the hair springing quite naturally from her head.

“You are, aren’t you?” he whispered.

The doll’s eyes sparkled.

Intrigued?

I hope so. And I also hope you’ll pick up a copy of The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30. It’s a collection I’m so thrilled to be a part of, and with the roster of exceptional authors in here, I’m absolutely positive you’re going to love it.

Please pick up your copy on either Amazon or Audible, and in the meantime, thank you so much for joining me on this two-post series!

Happy reading and listening!

XX,
Jade

The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30 (Part One) – “The Bells”!

Posted on June 10, 2015June 11, 2015 by Jade A. Waters

Every once in a while, we as writers create something we’re extraordinarily excited about. It could be that the piece was a challenge to write, or that it reflected a personal moment that’s stuck with us a long time. It might be a new idea we never thought to brave before, or, it could simply be that something about the story tickled us to the core. Either way, baring the part of our souls that made it important to us is why it ends up being so much more exciting when other people finally see it, too.

That’s why today’s news feels super enthralling. Just a little bit ago, The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30 came out, and now it’s officially available in audio, too. What makes this collection special (besides an all-star lineup) is not just that it includes one of those dear stories I described above—and I can’t even believe how lucky I am to say this—but it has two!

Since I have so much to say about both pieces in this fantastic new collection from the lovely Rose Caraway, I’ve decided to split this post into a two-part series. Today, I’ll talk about and give an excerpt for “The Bells,” which is a dark alternate history piece. Tomorrow, I’ll focus in on “The Doll,” a story that thrills me in a hugely different, more personal way. I hope you’ll join me for both posts, as I can honestly say these stories are two of my very favorites.

So, let’s see, before I say anything more about “The Bells,” let’s have a look-see at the ridiculously sexy audiobook cover:

Hot, right? I’m still dancing over here because I love it so! There’s been a slight (and possibly temporary) tweak to the ebook cover, but I’ll show you that one tomorrow.

For now, I’d like to tell you a bit about “The Bells”…

I have to start with a confession on this one: I am not a history buff, and it was my absolute worst subject in school. However, there are certain themes and topics that have surprised me along the way. For example, I’ve always been fascinated by powerful female leaders (or pseudo-leaders, anyway). My first glimpse of this was in reading The King’s Way by Françoise Chandernagor as a teen, and then a few years later, getting sucked into Philippa Gregory’s The Virgin Lover. It seemed to me these ladies were flexing a LOT of power despite being the historically underrated female, and so in the back of my mind I thought playing with that might be fun in a story one day.

Let’s cut to another historical topic that captivated me: Henry VIII and his herd of wives. I know it’s history and that was understandable for the time, but this one feisty man getting all the ladies and cutting off a third of their heads just because of a little adultery never quite sat right with me. It’s a crime against love and loins, dude, not a threat to your throne.

It’s this tidbit that actually leads to the third historical topic that revved my engines—the punishment methods of our past. I’ve always been bizarrely fascinated by this stuff, but in college, I stumbled upon a course called The History of Crime and Punishment. I promptly enrolled in it, obsessed over it, and aced it like a champ. I got so into this course, in fact, that my boyfriend at the time grew unnecessarily worried over how often I wanted to watch scary old late night documentaries depicting means of torture and really cruel things we did to one another in the name of justice. But, I mean—drawing and quartering? Wheel breaking? The Judas Cradle? Ducking stools? Loss of ears? What the hell is wrong with us that we came up with these things?!

So put all that background on simmer, and many years later, along comes Rose Caraway’s Dirty 30 call. She’d already bowled me over by putting Soundscapes on her tremendous Kiss Me Quick’s podcast, so I knew the plot could get way out there if I so wished it. I didn’t know what to write, but for some reason I kept having this persistent image of bells ringing. It was outdoors, in a dusty arena, and they just kept clang clang clanging.

As I was toying with what to do with this image, randomly, a certain unfortunate Queen I’d once learned about popped into my head.

I guess it was the perfect storm; the merging of all these ideas had me at the computer the next day in full trance-style—hyper-focused, phone off, fingers flying over the keyboard. The image grew darker and darker, because I kept wondering what if, what if, what if it had gone this way instead?

Annnnnddddd…that’s where I have to pull the brakes on my back story, because my intention is not to blow the plot for you—that wouldn’t be fun for any of us. Fortunately, I do have an excerpt to whet your appetite.

From “The Bells”:

Catherine remained still. The bells she wore about her ankles were permanent instruments, but it was the rest of the adornments that paled poor Helen’s face as she worked, her lips pursed tight when she drew the box from beneath Catherine’s bed and focused on the entirety of her lady’s body.

First, she circled her wrists with multiple strands of bells, creating bracelet upon bracelet of noise. The next strand she fastened around Catherine’s bare waist, the bells resting against her alabaster skin and jingling as Helen checked each one in turn. After came the clamps, which she held in the air with a wince before securing them to Catherine’s nipples. Immediately, Catherine felt the burn, the sting of teeth gripping her as Helen did what she’d been instructed to do every week prior—flicking them to ensure they made their respective and appropriate sounds.

Catherine closed her eyes. The clamps drove her mad, sending heat through her breasts and into her belly. Her heart pounded in ways neither Helen nor the King could possibly have anticipated—for they had all assumed after he walked in on her, catching her in her treachery, that this sort of ceremony would bring her the ultimate shame.

“Are you all right, my lady?”

Catherine opened her eyes with a nod.

“Continue.”

The first time Helen had adorned Catherine, she’d spoken her instructions aloud. Her voice had quavered in the bitter tears of youth as she affixed the many bells to Catherine’s naked form. But Catherine had found irony in soothing the girl, finally cupping her cheeks in her palms and silencing her with the same sentiment she’d boldly pronounced at her sentencing.

“This is the fate I have chosen for my crimes, because I would never choose to die.”

Catherine knew the girl had found some solace despite the sorrow wrinkling her brow. But even now, knowing Catherine’s choice, knowing her fate, Helen held her face in the stubborn conviction of a girl foolishly protecting her former Queen.

“Well? Hurry on, then,” Catherine said.

Helen scooped the last of the adornments from the box: a single bell on a chain that Catherine was to wear as a necklace. This lone bell would make the most noise throughout the ceremony, but at this moment it rested, quiet and benign, aligned with the rising throb of her clamped nipples.

Helen gave Catherine her final inspection, then nodded in the grave way she usually did before calling for the guard.

“She is ready.”

Catherine held her head high when he arrived. The man opened the cell with a leer behind his mask, and yet he made no comment, no move to take advantage of her state. Instead he merely stepped back, careful of her bare feet as Helen took her hand and escorted her down the winding hall. The bells on Catherine’s body chimed with every step, the reminder of her crime and the next round of punishment to come. Her cheeks burned, but the weight of the clamps and the sound of the bells sent her heart clattering in wild bursts.

When they arrived on the platform, Helen arranged Catherine behind the curtains as she’d been trained to do: her arms and legs splayed, fastened to the far corners of the proscenium by long cords of bells that attached to her bracelets. This was temporary—because beyond those thick, velvet sheets, loud shrieks beckoned for a show. Theirs was a kingdom of eager viewers, crazed with a hungry fervor that sent chills through Catherine’s arms as Helen shifted her about. Her body vibrated with the energy of the arena, and her legs shook beneath her when Helen nudged her torso forward. The pitch of her chest allowed the bells to dangle from her neck and nipples so they would trill with each movement she’d make.

“Good luck, my lady,” Helen said.

And then she was gone.

I have not yet had the opportunity to hear the amazing Rose Caraway read either of the stories I’ve got in this collection, but I have no doubt she’s going to completely rock my world, and hopefully yours too! The book is available on Audible right here, or if you prefer it, on Amazon right here.

Either way, I do hope you’ll please come back tomorrow, when I share some back story and an excerpt for my other story in this collection, “The Doll.”

Until then, thanks so much for reading!

XX,
Jade

N.B. You can now read about “The Doll” right here.

Coming Together: Among the Stars—”The Joy Ride” Excerpt

Posted on December 15, 2014December 11, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

Hurray! Coming Together: Among the Stars is officially out today!

I’m so thrilled “The Joy Ride” is a part of this anthology, both because I love a good venture into spec fic AND because this hot little collection is for a good cause—all proceeds benefit the International Still’s Disease Foundation. Fantastic!

In honor of release day, I thought I’d share some backstory as well as an excerpt. Let’s start with the backstory—“The Joy Ride” is a particularly special piece for me. The original version was actually one I wrote while I was in the process of deciding to do this erotica thing for real. Sure, I’d penned a piece here and there, but it wasn’t clear to me—yet—that erotica was what really spoke to me.

So there it was 2012, and I’d ended up at a Fantasy and Sci-Fi writing conference where, during the course of the weekend, we were supposed to write a flash story inspired by the line, “On Thursday, she pressed the button.” I opted to write a story about a woman fed up with her ex-husband and job, who then spotted a button in her hotel room labeled Press for a good time. And when the woman pressed the button, two hot alien creatures arrived and took her away on their space ship. The story was sassy and silly, but somewhere in the course of it all, one of the aliens mentioned that usually only men press the button.

My critique group got a big kick out of this line, since I’d already written a rather titillating piece about a stripper werewolf. Someone asked about the lives of the aliens, and the next thing I knew, I was on the airplane flying home, drafting an early version of “The Joy Ride”—this time told from the alien captain’s point of view and, unbeknownst to me, lighting the first spark in my head toward taking my erotica writing more seriously.

Two years later, the wonderful Lynn Townsend had a call for Coming Together: Among the Stars. I dusted off the old story, changed a few [major] things, and poof! There it was: the little story that first kicked my naughty brain into full gear, revised and ready to jump aboard this fabulous charity anthology!

So, enough of the behind-the-scenes stuff. I’d say it’s time for an excerpt, wouldn’t you? “The Joy Ride” follows Captain Ronat and Co-Captain Loul, two alien creatures who have been orbiting the Earth as part of a 30-year penalty for galaxy back taxes, until one day they pick up an Earthling couple.

Excerpt:

The man cowered as Ronat walked to him. Ronat didn’t touch him, but he did lay his hand on the grey surface behind Bill’s head. The solid panel evaporated into one huge window, giving the man a close-up view of the Galaxy.

“What the fuck?”

“It’s exactly what you think it is.”

“But…we were just…how is this…?” Bill put his hands on the window and stuck his forehead so close against it his breath fogged the glass. The light of distant planets twinkled and blinked, brightening his face until his sharp frown began to dissolve. “Is it really…?”

Ronat nodded. “It is, my friend. Welcome to the Galaxy.”

Bill kept his palms on the window, mesmerized by the view. When Ronat placed his hand on Bill’s shoulder, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he met Ronat’s eyes with a flash of longing in his own. It didn’t hurt that the chemistry between humans and his kind created a state of heightened arousal for both parties, which is why the Earth leaders had allowed them to occupy the Galaxy in exchange for hotel service so long ago.

“I feel like I should tell you to take your hand off me, but it’s strange…I don’t want to,” Bill said.

“It’s okay. It’s natural between our kinds.”

He gulped. “What is your kind?”

“We’re from Tetro, part of an ancient race in the Galaxy.”

Bill drew his hand from the window. “Why are you here?”

“Long story,” Ronat said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to. All you need to know is that you’re here, in flight, and anything you want can be yours.”

Bill stared.

“Anything,” he repeated.

Bill raked his gaze over Ronat’s scaly flesh and crisscrossing straps, then down his silver pants. He seemed most captivated by his moon boots, and while he focused on them, Ronat moved closer. He could smell Bill’s sweat under his button-up shirt, a residual pungency of long hours at the office mixed with the essence of Earthling arousal.

“I don’t know that I’m into that,” Bill said. “I’m married.”

As if on cue, Andrea let out a moan that lasted for a solid minute.

Bill whispered, “Can I see her?”

“Sure. But you have to know that she’s in the middle of—”

“I want to see her. I want to see it.”

Well, well, well.

Ronat ran his pinky on the wall in the shape of a hexagon, then tapped three times. The eye scan appeared and he lined his retina up with the infrared beam, blinking fast so that his third lid retracted before the scan ray hit. A click sounded and the wall vanished, opening the hull of the ship to the room where Loul and Andrea fucked like Earth dogs.

Bill exhaled heavily. His wife was oblivious to his presence, but Loul glanced over. Naked and glistening, he pummeled Andrea from behind, bringing groans of pleasure from her throat as she clawed backward to reach his dark, scaled ass.

“Oh my gawd!” she cried. “Oh…my…gawwwwddddd.”

“Oh my,” Bill muttered. His eyes widened as he watched her, her tits bouncing all over the place. The smell of Andrea’s juices permeated the air and wafted into Ronat’s nose, sending a tingle through his body.

He crept behind Bill. “What do you think?”

Andrea answered for him “Yes, yes! Give it to me!”

Loul weaved his hands in Andrea’s tousled red hair, then angled back enough so both Ronat and Bill could see the flexing of his abs as he glided repeatedly inside her.

Bill gasped.

“It’s hot, isn’t it?” Ronat grasped Bill’s shoulders, massaging them while the man’s breath grew more ragged. His own cock lurched at the sight, making his silver pants incredibly uncomfortable. “Do you want to join?”

“I can’t. She’s obviously—”

“Oh, she wants it, Bill. Look at her.” Ronat leaned into his ear, his lips lightly grazing the man’s lobe. “Your wife is an animal.” When Bill didn’t speak, he shouted across the room. “Hey Loul! Can we join?”

Loul paused mid-thrust and Andrea tossed up her head, her face glistening with the sweat of wild sex. She registered the view of her husband for a second, her eyes spreading in surprise.

“Bill! Oh no, I didn’t know that you… I’m so sor—”

Loul drove himself all the way into her and she belted another cry. “Don’t you dare be sorry,” he said, pumping her a few times into incoherence. “You both came here for a good time!”

Bill’s face softened. There really was no way for this to go poorly. The only question was how Bill would insert himself into the scene.

With his next words, he made Ronat a proud accomplice.

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart,” Bill said. “You are so hot right now. Can we join in?”

Loul threw back his head, gripping the sides of Andrea’s waist for one final shove inside her. “Fuck, yes!”

When Andrea wailed in pleasure, Bill stripped off his clothes in less than thirty seconds, piling his slacks, tie, button-up shirt, boxers and undershirt on the floor. Then, wearing nothing but his socks and a cock at full mast, he peered between Ronat and his spasming wife.

“Are you coming, too?” he said.

I hope you enjoyed the excerpt!

“The Joy Ride” is part of Coming Together: Among the Stars, edited by Lynn Townsend, and with so many other fabulous erotic sci-fi authors included in this one, I’m sure it’s going to be a treat.

Please pick up your copy on Amazon—every book purchased helps support the International Still’s Disease Foundation!

Thank you for reading and supporting the cause!

XX,
Jade

“Fertile” Is at Tamsin’s Superotica Today!

Posted on December 10, 2014December 10, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

That’s right, everyone! Today I’ve jumped over to Tamsin’s Superotica with an exclusive excerpt from my upcoming story in Best Erotic Romance 2015, “Fertile.”

This year’s edition includes “Fertile”!

Best Erotic Romance 2015 is set to release on Kindle on December 22nd, and on paperback a bit after that—but you can pre-order the anthology right now on Amazon. I’m tickled to be sharing pages with both of my Pillow Talk cohorts in this anthology edited by the lovely Kristina Wright, and today I’m extra thrilled that Tamsin has asked to feature a snippet of my story on her hot Christmas advent calendar!

So, please head on over to Tamsin’s place right now. I hope you enjoy the excerpt of “Fertile” you’ll find there, as well as all the other sexy pieces she’s featuring in her Christmas countdown. It’s seriously smokin’ this year, and I’m so happy to have been a part.

Happy holidays!

XX,
Jade

“The Connection” is Part of Chemical [se]X—Out Today!

Posted on November 13, 2014November 13, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

Hi everyone! Great news—Chemical [se]X is out today! This anthology is the product of one crazy sexy idea offered up by the lovely Oleander Plume. See, once upon a time, Oleander wrote a story about a couple of scientists who stumbled upon a very special type of chocolate—an aphrodisiac chocolate, released into the world to improve the lives of, well, everyone.

So a bit after writing this, Oleander asked a randy crew of us if we’d like to write a story based on her chocolate idea. The answer was an easy yes, and the results are one gorgeous collection filled to the brim with chocolate, sex, chocolate, and…more sex! I’m tickled to have “The Connection” alongside the work of several other authors with whom I’m familiar—Tabitha Rayne, Annabeth Yeong, and Jacob Louder, and especially my Pillow Talk cohorts, Tamsin Flowers and Malin James—and then there are some up-and-comers who arrived ready to rock your world, such as Ella Dawson and Exhibit A. But that’s not all! This baker’s dozen all created something new for the chocolate theme, and their stories are released into the wild today. To celebrate, I’d like to share an excerpt of my story, plus a blurb!

“The Connection” is a story about a once-overtly sexual couple losing the spark in their marriage—until the wife, Aubrey, decides it’s time to do something about it with a box of these special chocolates.

Read on for a morsel of “The Connection”:

Heavy and taunting, the container had banged against her hip when she hoisted her purse over her shoulder, its presence as poignant as the need deep in her sex when she pondered what might happen after Terence came home. The wonder burned on as she waited for him, and when she ran her fingers across the top of the box, she tilted her head coyly to the side. Aubrey could actually smell the truffles through the cardboard and the wrapping, the scent definitively chocolate with a whiff of crisp mint and grass beneath. But there was something else, too. It was earthy and rich, she realized, much like arousal.

Her arousal.

Aubrey wanted to wait for Terence, but she ached to know what these chocolates could do. Lifting the lid, she admired the six candies inside, each piece tempting her from within the black and white polka-dotted foil cups. The store clerk had explained this decorative packaging as specific to the premium box, “guaranteed to satisfy” or her money back tomorrow.

How could she resist?

Quickly, Aubrey grabbed a chocolate and took the smallest nibble, then nested the candy back in its cup. The dark chocolate tingled along her tongue and down her throat when she swallowed, the sensation peculiar and warm. It had to be her imagination, but the lid was barely back on the box when the feeling spread through her neck, her breasts, and her arms. It was powerful, overwhelming and sweet—exactly how she felt when Terence thrust inside her, making her whimper and writhe in passion.

Aubrey gasped.

That. Yes, that.

Taste the blurb:

Sex and chocolate! Was there ever such a marriage made in heaven? Isn’t the thought of it making you bite your lip? Chocolate melting on your tongue…desire pooling in your gut… Pheromones, endorphins, theobromine…there’s a chemical connection between sex and chocolate that makes our craving for the pair together far more than the sum of its parts.

Oleander Plume has always been obsessed by this coupling and so, inspired by her wicked short story Chemical [se]X, she corralled a baker’s dozen of erotica writers and force fed them chocolate until they complied with her wishes. Each one of them has turned in a mini-masterpiece of chocolate, seduction and red-hot sizzling sex that will have your cheeks burning and your fingers reaching for just…one…more.

All of the writers Oleander selected are at the top of their high caliber game. From seasoned writers who’ve already proved their mettle to a number of extraordinarily gifted newcomers, you’ll find so much satisfaction between these pages. In every story, the aphrodisiac chocolates developed in Oleander’s original story put in an appearance—causing a submissive to turn Domme, kicking off an orgy at a roller disco, rekindling a long-dead marriage, and playing havoc within the repressed confines of religious order. Men jump on men, a woman jumps on her husband’s boss, twosomes become threesomes become foursomes… These chocolates need to carry a warning—just like this book—too hot to handle!

Naturally, each copy of Chemical [se]X should come with its own small gold box of aphrodisiac chocolates. We’re so sorry it doesn’t! But rest assured, the stories you’ll find between these pages will leave you just as heated as any aphrodisiac could have done. Finger-licking good!

Partake of the feast:

Oleander Plume’s “Chemical [se]X” kicked the whole thing off as a potent South American herb is developed into the most irresistible chocolate ever.

In Malin James’s “Bittersweet,” one taste of the sexy chocolates is enough for a submissive to come over all Domme with her married lover.

For her first published outing, Ella Dawson takes us back to the college dorm where the “Friendly Neighborhood Drug Dealer” is peddling candy that has a whole new affect…

In “Flat Warming,” Exhibit A’s lovelorn bachelor finds succor when a different kind of hunger drives new flat mates to set aside the sweets and start munching on each other instead.

For a long-time married couple, life in the bedroom has virtually ground to a halt in Jade A Waters’ “The Connection.” That is until the wife hears about a new brand of chocolate…

In Tabitha Rayne’s, “The Dinner Guest,” a couple unearth their secret kinky desires when an old college friend starts dishing out the chocolates.

When a temp lands a job in the offices of the chocolate manufacturer, she uncovers some unexpectedly sweet perks… It’s “Chocolate Covered” by F. Leonora Solomon.

In “[du]X,” Dario Dalla Lasta takes us for a testosterone-charged spin around the roller-disco courtesy of, you guessed it, some very special chocolates.

When her husband’s boss comes for dinner, one woman’s dessert turns into something extraordinary when she chooses a novel ingredient for making the ganache—”Dinner for Three” from L. Maretta.

In Jacob Louder’s “Thursday Threesome/Birthday Foursome” the usual dynamic of a Thursday threesome is all shook up by the arrival of an extra guest and the ingestion of the aphrodisiacs.

C. E. Hansen offers us a sizzling journey home from work in “The Commute”—after all, why wait until you get home?

Disappearing into the woodshed usually means a horror story, but not in Tamsin Flowers’ lethargic, Deep South encounter with “The Stranger.”

In Oleander Plume’s “Coffee Break,” two young contractors take on more than they bargained for at the Mayor’s residence—but then maybe they shouldn’t have helped themselves to the chocolates!

The collection closes with “The Alleged Savage,” Annabeth Leong’s delicious novella of repressed lust, original sin and chocolate frenzy in a strict religious order.

***

I hope you enjoyed the excerpt for “The Connection,” and also that this blurb has whet your appetite for some chocolate-infused erotica! You can find out more about Chemical [se]X and its authors right here, or, please head on over to Amazon to pick up your copy!

I assure you, it’s one sweet surprise. 🙂

XX,
Jade

A Snog for Sommer—Kisses for a Lovely Lady!

Posted on September 14, 2014September 16, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

Hi everyone,

You may recall the lovely Sommer Marsden joining me a few months back—she is both a fabulous writer and an all around sweetheart. I’ve had several amazing interactions with her myself, and over and over again, I’ve heard others say the same. She’s genuinely the nicest person around, and it’s impossible not to think of Sommer’s writing without knowing about the woman with a giant gold heart behind it all.

Unfortunately, Sommer’s family has been going through a very hard time. Her husband is currently fighting pancreatic cancer, so today, in honor of Sommer’s sweetness, several writers have gotten together to drum up some help for her family. Each author listed on the Snog for Sommer page will be posting an excerpt of a story involving a kiss, and we’re hoping that you will join us in helping Sommer’s family, too. How? On the official Snog page you’ll find a donation widget—so please, if you could, take a peek at all the authors participating and donate a little something for Sommer.

To provide more incentive, I’m offering up both a prize and an excerpt!

Updated: The previously offered prize of Violet Blue’s Kissing: A Field Guide has been claimed! However, if you are still able to donate, we would surely appreciate it. All you need to do is go to the Snog page and make a donation. Thank you!

To put you in a giving mood, I have a kissing excerpt for you! (Sommer writes the *best* kisses, so this is why there’s a kissing theme!) This excerpt comes from a story I wrote a couple years ago called “Marm,” which is currently hosted over at The Erotic Woman:

Angie backed against her kitchen counter and shifted her legs, the wool of her skirt itchy and grating, contradicting the silky moisture pooling at the apex of her thighs. Sometimes, she had to remind herself that Ms. Patrick did not exist beyond school walls. The dark-framed glasses, the long braid, the wool uniform that constantly aggravated her skin—that was not her.

That was who she channeled, day in and day out: the structured, successful, orderly English teacher she’d become after all these years, teaching at St. Sebastian’s since she’d graduated from college. Max had spent a mere three years there as the brazen Bio teacher, and already he’d inspired all the girls to write their names alongside his in cursive, with hearts and stars and endless swooning commentary. He was a lady killer, at school or at home, but what he was to her was something else—someone who understood that when Ms. Patrick climbed into her car at the end of the day, she became herself.

“Tell you what,” she said. “I’m going to unlock the front door. Give me three minutes, then come in and find me.”

She hung up the phone and unlocked the deadbolt, then ran back to the tile countertop. She hopped onto it and arranged herself just as she’d done this morning in the staff lounge, then resumed the undoing of her shirt until it exposed the top portion of her chest. Angie crossed her feet at the ankles and pitched forward, waiting. The hair stood up on her arms as she wondered what he’d do when he saw her, and the images running through her mind made the heat coil deep within her core.

Max’s three minutes was two, and when his count was up he nearly threw open the door. He pursed his lips and looked her over. Not a word came from his mouth as he inhaled so heavily through his nose she heard it across the kitchen.

Angie cocked her head and shifted her hips on the counter. “Hi there,” she said.

Max still didn’t say anything. He walked with measured steps across the room until he stood in front of her, then placed a hand on either side of her legs. He stared into her eyes. “Do you have a thing for countertops lately, Ms. Patrick?” Then he tilted his head toward her neck, pressing his lips to the edge of her jaw. He trailed his mouth down to her collar.

“I thought you were after Angie?”

Max nibbled at her skin, rolling it gently between his teeth. He cupped his hands around her ass and raised his mouth to her upper lip. “No.”

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“Oh?” Angie maintained her straight back but closed her eyes as his lips lingered over hers.

“I’m after the real Ms. Patrick. The one that exists beneath that rigid shell.”

She ducked her head. “She’s right here, you know.”

“Almost,” he said. He ran his finger along the flaps of her blouse, peering into her face. “She’s still breaking free.”

Angie slid off the counter and to the floor. Her pulse raced—he always said such things. He was thirty-four, and handsome, and though he was only a few years younger, his pushiness was not so different from that of their students. “Wine?” she muttered.

Max watched her while she poured the red liquid first into his glass and then her own. She raised it to her lips and he took a drink as well, then walked around the bar top. Before she finished her sip, he snatched her glass away and pushed her back against the tile.

“Whoa! What’s this?”

He planted his lips on hers, cutting off her words, her breath. Angie sucked air in through her nose and sank into the kiss, enjoying the probe of his tongue as his hands clawed their way across her lower back. He rubbed the contour that formed above her bottom and growled. He was most certainly not like the other men she’d dated.

“This is what I’m after,” he said between kisses. He fondled her buttons and tugged them open. Angie shivered—and when she teasingly pulled away, Max shoved his pelvis into hers, pinning her against the counter. “My sweet, sweet marm.”

***

Want to read more? Head on over to The Erotic Woman to read the full story for free. But before you do, please hop over to the Snog for Sommer page and make a contribution to help out her family.

Thanks so much for supporting the cause!

XX,
Jade