A Little Piece of “Paradise”

Posted on July 20, 2017July 20, 2017 by Jade A. Waters

Hey everyone! I’m excited to tell you that I have a short story out this week in an anthology that’s slipped its way into the world a touch early—hurray! On Fire: Erotic Romance Stories is out now on ebook with the paperback version available in just a few days. This lovely collection from Cleis Press houses both the sexy and the sweet, and since it’s edited by the fabulous Rachel Kramer Bussel, you know you’re in for something great!

I’m so pleased to share that a tender little old story of mine, “Paradise,” is included in this anthology. The story centers around Justin and Anna, a couple who are rekindling a long lost romance on Anna’s trip to Justin’s now island home of sunny Puerto Rico. This story is particularly dear to my heart, and I’d love to tell you why. See, I started this one quite a long time ago, after my own real life love affair with a man I’ll call G., who was in the military (and who very much inspired Justin’s character). I didn’t get far in my writing because I was more invested in the real life romance, which, sadly, didn’t last all that long after G. moved away. While we did attempt—and fail—at our own rekindling on a trip I took to Puerto Rico years later, we fortunately had a charming run-in years after that in San Francisco. 😉

Now, in real life, G. and I realized we would never work long term, though we both looked fondly on our earlier romance and all the intensity that comes from distance, oh so much distance…and that tension struck me as the sweetest basis for an erotic romance story when I saw Rachel’s call all those years later. So, I pulled out the two or three pages I’d written a decade before, added some details of my actual trip to Puerto Rico—because holy moly, that place is beautiful—and imagined what would happen if the couple was, say, more meant to be than G. and I were. The story found its way into Rachel’s hands a while back, and now I’m delighted to share it with you!

To celebrate On Fire’s release, I’ve got a little piece of “Paradise” for you to read below. And, to set the tone, two of my favorite pictures from my trip to Puerto Rico. One is from the island of Culebra, a short boat ride from the main island, and the other a splash of all the greenery you can find on the island itself. I hope you enjoy both pictures, and also the following story excerpt…

From “Paradise”:

I admired the view while Justin stroked his fingers over my hand. The water beyond the sand glistened like polished glass, a topaz field of wetness beckoning us to swim in it.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. It was this same vast ocean that had kept us apart for so long, and I frowned. Justin stepped closer, his flip-flops slapping on the tile until his chest hovered a couple inches away. Against the cherry-colored walls of the room, he looked out of place—a southern gentleman turned beach-boy who yanked me hard enough that I collided into him.

“No, you’re beautiful,” he said. He slid his hands to my hips before lowering his mouth to mine again. I felt numb, content to be with him, here, but my vision clouded over as delighted tears rushed into my eyes. Justin noticed and swiped his fingers in long, tender strokes beneath my eyelashes. “Hey now, sweetheart. What are the tears for?” He said it softly, his twang making me giddy. His own eyes glistened and I laughed, shuddering as more tears, happy tears, fell to my chin.

“I’ve just…missed you,” I said.

Justin shook his head, then kissed my cheeks. He whispered, “No tears. We’re here, together now. No more waiting or wondering.”

I nodded. “I know.”

He snaked his arms around me, both of us hobbling back and forth while he nudged me toward the glass doors. His lips grazed my ear as he looked between my face and the ocean outside.

“You know, for three years, I’ve been out here thinking of you, Anna. I’ve been in the water, on the beach, living in this beautiful place, but…” He ran his fingertips through the hair at my brow, then used his other hand to pull me close enough to feel the hard bulge in his shorts. “None of it compared to seeing someone as beautiful as you.”

My knees grew weak. Those words, those sweet sentiments—the firm wedge of his cock rising to meet me—God how I’d missed them.

“Kiss me,” I said.

He did.

This time, the kiss was heavier—less desperate to close the distance, only eager to rekindle our fire. I melted into his lips, heat coiling through my body and sending tingles along my limbs as he plundered my mouth and took my tongue into his. When I nibbled his lip, he paused. He swooped me up and I gasped, mesmerized by the man who cradled me in his arms and carried me to the couch.

“Do you know how many nights I’ve dreamed of you?” he said. I laid my head back on the cushions as he sat beside me on the floor, then trailed his lips over my hands. “I should offer you a meal. A shower. More to make you comfortable, Anna, but all I can think about is making love to you.”

Culebra

He grazed my neck with his fingertips, his roughened skin sending trembles through my body again, and I swallowed.

“Then do.”

Justin grinned. He climbed beside me on the couch, sinking his hip against my thigh and running his hand along my leg beneath my shorts. He traced his fingertips over my knees, then down to slide off my sandals.

“I’ve always loved how blatant you are, darlin’.” He circled my ankles with his hands, caressing them like he used to, like every inch of me was a temple he worshipped. I reminded myself to breathe, the longing to feel him after such an extended time taking over my senses. He folded over me, sneaking his hands across my belly, then under my halter top, and when he slid them over the cups of my bra, our lips locked tight.

“Justin…” I muttered, loving the way his tongue moved so aggressively in my mouth while his hands made the gentlest of strokes over my breasts. He skimmed his fingers over my nipples, rubbing the tender peaks until I moaned. When he slid his lips to my neckline, he spread slow, soft pecks between the panels of my shirt, flicking his tongue in quick lashes over my skin. A blush filled my cheeks at the touch, a reminder of the way he used to kiss my sex for hours before ever driving into me.

“God, I’ve wanted this, wanted you…” he said. He unhooked the few buttons holding my shirt closed, our kisses growing more frenzied as he laid himself over me. Our hips were together instantly, both of us grinding against one other as I grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head. He kissed me harder, his pelvis crashing against mine as he dragged his hands straight into my hair, then gathered it behind my head and yanked it tight just like I loved. I mewled.

“I want you too, Justin. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh…” He pulled back to look over me, keeping his fist in my hair, using his other hand to tease my nipples through my bra. His gaze was lost, hungry, lustful, his hands over me desperate and skilled. He pinched my nipples and I arched against him, ready for the wait to end.

“Please,” I growled.

***

There you have it! Some of your own “Paradise” to enjoy before you get your hands on On Fire, a delicious new erotic romance anthology available now. Pick up your copy on Amazon or at any of the buy links below…

Happy reading!

XX,
Jade

Rachel Kramer Bussel is Over to Visit!

Posted on December 13, 2016December 12, 2016 by Jade A. Waters

Hi everyone! Today is a special day—it’s the release day for Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 2…a fantastic anthology edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel! I have been fortunate to work with Rachel on a number of occasions, which is why I couldn’t be happier to have her over for an exclusive interview today. Yes!

Since I’ve long admired Rachel’s work in both editing and writing, I had a lot of fun picking her brain on the Best Women’s Erotica of the Year series and much, much more. The anthology itself is bound to be another hit, so you’ll definitely want to grab your copy on Amazon in either print or ebook form. You can also find out more about it on the Best Women’s Erotica of the Year site. And, bonus, we’ll be doing a reading to celebrate its release on January 31, 2017 at Skylight Books in L.A. I’ll be reading an excerpt from my story in BWE Volume 1 alongside some wonderful authors with stories in Volume 2—you won’t want to miss that, so be sure to check out the events page and mark your calendars!

For now, I hope you enjoy all the details I got from Rachel about her work, her books, and her style. I know I did!

Welcome Rachel! I’m so excited to have you here today, and to get to ask you a bunch of questions about your work. Thank you for joining me! I hope it’s okay—I’m going to dive right in with my first question…

What would you say is the main thing you look for when selecting stories for an anthology?

Variety. I consider each story individually and gravitate toward the ones that grab me, the ones that are different from others I’ve read, that I think my readers will like, and then I make sure they all work together to create a diverse, varied whole. Something I tell my erotica writing students is that I want to know why the people in the story are having sex, and why now. I want to feel that immediacy and urgency in every story. I never want to feel like the characters are just going through the motions; I want to get to know them, not just their sexual desires, but them as people and how their history informs their sexuality.

So it’s tough to point to any one aspect, but I like having a mix of settings, eras, writing styles and of course a wide range of characters when it comes to sexuality, sexual orientation, race, age, country of origin, location (I appreciate stories that aren’t all set in big cities, and where the action doesn’t always take place in a bedroom) etc. I also look for different points of views and tenses, because I think that makes for a more pleasant reading experience. So that’s a lot to balance and not something I can always control for as an editor, but I try my best. I’m planning a slight twist for the call for submissions for Volume 4, which I’ll be posting in 2017, which will have some sub-themes that I think could make for really interesting plotlines.

Ooh, that’s interesting. I can’t wait to hear more on that! Speaking of…now that you are editor of the Best Women’s Erotica of the Year series, what would you say is different about working on this series than other anthologies? How?

Knowing that I have several volumes behind me and right now two more ahead of me (Volumes 3 and 4) is a wonderful gift, because I know that each time I have the opportunity to reach more readers and more writers from around the world. Picking up a series that’s been edited incredibly well by two previous editors is a challenge but one I am honored to get to play a role in. I try to build a sense of community among all the BWE authors and also try to keep the books different so that readers who enjoyed one will also enjoy the others and never be bored. In general, I try to push myself with each anthology I edit to find new ways of reaching audiences and seeking out new writers, and I’ve been doing my best to do that with this series. I hope to publish work by authors from countries that haven’t previously been represented going forward. Otherwise, as an editor I often have to simply wait and see what kinds of stories arrive in my inbox and that helps dictate what kind of tone each anthology will have. I also can incorporate feedback from readers into how I shape and craft future volumes, which I can’t do with one-off anthologies.

You know, I love reading your stories in the anthologies you’ve curated. Do you usually write your piece at the time of posting the call, or after you see the selection of stories you have for the anthology?

In the past, I’ve done it both ways. Sometimes if I found I didn’t get a certain type of element, I would try to fill it in. Or in the case of Come Again: Sex Toy Erotica, where I wanted each story’s sex toy to be different, I wrote about a set of metal claws, since they have always fascinated me and nobody else had covered it. One thing I’ve changed with the Best Women’s Erotica of the Year series I’m editing is in order to make room for more authors’ voices, I’ve kept each book limited to those who weren’t published in the previous BWE of the Year books, which includes me, so Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 2 is the first anthology I’ve edited that doesn’t include my own fiction. I think that’s fitting and am very proud to be moving into more of a curatorial role. Any plotlines and scenarios I had wanted to include in a given volume but didn’t get to due to space or lack of story submissions, I try to make up for in the next volume.

That’s a clever approach. What is your favorite step or part of being an editor? Why?

For me the best part of being an editor is getting to work with hundreds of authors from around the world, all of whom are writing the kinds of pieces I could sit in front of my computer for thousands of hours and never come up with. I especially publishing writing by authors who are new to the genre because that’s where I was not that long ago and an editor taking a chance on my work was such a wonderful opportunity and I’m thrilled to be able to pay that forward.

And what about the hardest part?

Sending rejections. When I finally quit editing anthologies, it will be a huge relief to no longer have to send rejection letters, which, even though they are part of the job, always make me feel like a horrible monstrous person. I know I’m not and I know by the numbers, there simply isn’t any way to include all the stories that are submitted to any given anthology even if I loved each and every one, but it still is an awful feeling because I know everyone worked diligently on their stories. I’m heartened though by the fact that a writer who believes in their work will take a rejection as an opportunity to find another home for their words and so far I’ve been lucky enough to always have a new anthology to edit. I try to point to a new call for submissions of mine when I do send rejections to encourage authors to keep submitting.

That’s fair. And authors should keep submitting, too—rejection is just part of the deal. I’m curious about another thing I imagine is an editor woe: what is your least favorite grammatical error (or the most annoying one to you) to catch and/or fix in stories? Has this changed for you over time, aka are there grammatical things that have stopped “bugging” you over the years?

Probably the most challenging to fix is when the tense changes throughout the story. I’ve done it so I know how annoying it is to redo, and I also know that sometimes an author can see a story existing in multiple tenses, and eventually you just have to pick one.

Eek. I’ve done that myself in the past! Okay, another question—what is your most favorite story that you’ve put in an anthology, of all time? (Or, if you’d rather not specify a story, how about a theme or subject that came up in an anthology?)

It’s hard to say because I have so many to choose from but I especially love stories that surprise me. One story I have read at numerous readings and truly adore for its ingenuity is “Remote Control” by Logan Zachary from The Big Book of Orgasms. It’s the perfect combination of sexy and funny and makes any reader wonder just what they would do if they were handed the title object. That’s a lot to do in less than 1,200 words but he somehow did it. You can listen to it on The Kiss Me Quick’s Podcast, read by Rose Caraway, who narrated the audiobook. I also have a soft spot for “Daddy’s Girl” by Teresa Noelle Roberts in Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica. It’s such a vivid and hot story about role-playing, and what I especially love is that it makes it perfectly clear that they are indeed engaging in beloved roles that turn them on. She manages to mix the fantasy and reality elements of the story so it doesn’t lose any of its hotness but makes that delineation clear. I’d love to publish more edgy stories like that in my anthologies.

One of the things I’ve long admired about you is your desire to include as many new authors as possible in your anthologies. (Heck, this is how my first published piece, “The Flogger,” happened in The Big Book of Orgasms, and I can’t say thank you enough!) What is something you’re looking for in a new author for future anthologies?

Mainly I’m just looking for fresh ideas or new insights into sexual desire, passion, love and lust, and how those all fit in with the rest of our lives and what’s going on in the world. There really isn’t any one specific thing, though I am always pleased when authors approach a subject, even if it’s one that’s been written about plenty, and finds a way to make it feel as if it’s brand new. I’m often far more interested in the psychological twists and turns sex can take than a recitation of the physical machinations of sex, so that’s something I’m always interested in. Beyond that, I just look for pieces I think my readers will marvel over and want to reread again and again.

That’s a good plan. Now, when you’re writing, do you find that your editor side kicks in and causes you to edit while you draft? Or, are you able to separate your two roles and write freely before you edit?

Usually if my editor side kicks in when I’m writing, it’s a sign that I’m approaching a given piece incorrectly. I do my best to let go and simply write until I feel I’m at a natural stopping point, and then go back and edit later.

Smart. Okay, here’s an off the cuff one: you are given the choice of editing or writing, for the rest of your life. Only one. Which do you choose? Why?

I’d have to say writer because I started writing (outside of erotica) far before I ever considered being an editor. But I would certainly miss the joy of working with other writers if I couldn’t do it anymore.

We would miss that, too! I wonder…some writers revisit themes, or particular scenes that keep coming back in their work. Do you have such a repeated element in yours (that you recognize)?

I’m probably the opposite in that the part of writing I like the most is creating a new piece, whether that’s fiction or non-fiction.

So then, would you ever write a sequel to one of your stories, and if so, which one? Why would you like to bring it back?

I’ve long wanted to write a sequel to my oral sex restaurant story “Secret Service” from Best Women’s Erotica 2010 edited by Violet Blue, looking at the fellatio equivalent to my cunnilingus restaurant. I think it would be a fun twist on a story that already took its origin from a real-life Brooklyn restaurant that sold cocaine in the back.

Sexy. I am looking forward to this sequel! But let’s say you weren’t in the word industry. What would your next career be?

Maybe a bingo caller, because I love playing bingo, but I’m not sure if that would ruin the fun for me.

I like it. That’s fun. 🙂 Which leads to a fun last question…you can go anywhere, free of charge, for as long as you want. What would be the most romantic and/or dream place for you to write?

I love hotels, so probably any really luxurious hotel where I could get anything I needed at the press of a button.

Fabulous. Thank you so much for being here, Rachel!

And there you have it! A peek inside the brilliant mind of Rachel Kramer Bussel. Don’t forget to pick up your copy of Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 2 on Amazon, and we hope to see you at the reading on January 31^st!

A giant thank you to Rachel for joining me today!

About Those “Apple Thighs”

Posted on July 6, 2016July 16, 2016 by Jade A. Waters

Like many women, I’ve long harbored nagging body hang-ups. I’ve heard we all have at least one thing we wish we could change—weight, breast size, hip width, nose length, belly roll, ass curve, etc., etc. I’ve certainly had my fair share of these “one things,” things I either wished to vanquish or worked ridiculously hard to at least adjust somehow. I remember a multi-year stint as a child convinced I would get a nose job when I was 18, but it turns out, I was destined to grow into the full-sized nose I had from birth. I hated my hips for the longest time because I was born with those, too (really), and I spent a lot of my teen years with bruises on them from bumping into things since I somehow didn’t grasp how wide they were. Both these features have since balanced out, and while they’re no longer issues, certain “one things” have persisted over the years. The big one, no matter how fit I am or what I do, is the hereditary trait most of the women in my family share: the “dreaded apple thighs.”

Apple thighs, I’m sure you’re thinking. What in the hell are those?

Apple thighs, you see, are very distinct in shape. They’re not quite like their oft-dwelled upon cousin, thunder thighs, but a round, fleshy version that tapers at the knee. This taper is what resembles—in some odd way that my mother explained to me when I was a wee little girl—an apple. And we of the women in my family are doomed (yes, doomed) to have these cursed apple thighs, no matter if we are thick or thin, short or tall, curvy or straight. Those fuckers just happen, and despite this, in my family, they get a lot of negative attention and commentary. As I have learned, apple thighs are bemoaned and bad, and as beautiful as one of us may be, we’ve still missed out somehow by having these big ass curvy thighs.

Now, I’m going to be extremely straight with you today: I’ve worked with some real body image issues over the years, which ebb and flow and for which I’ve even sought a little counseling to better deal on occasion. I’m all over the #allbodiesarebeautiful movement because I believe in it through and through, and though I have my wavers in spells, deep in my heart, I know these apple thighs are part of me and something that, most of the time, I’m okay with. But when I have my doubts—about them, or any other part—I have to think about the whole picture. I have to come to terms with who I am and love me just as I am.

That’s why, of all the stories I’ve released into the world, “Apple Thighs” is one of my most cherished pieces. It’s out now in Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Begging For It: Erotic Fantasies for Women. I wrote it one night after a particularly grueling day having heard another family member snigger at those “pesky apple thighs”; I’d come home and taken a peek at them in passing, and I thought the poor things needed a break, once and for all. I’d already had a few years in the circus, where I loved to dress up wearing leotards, tights, and thigh-high stockings—which I intentionally used to flash my thighs—so I’d had a good wave of embracing them. I’d even discovered how handy they were in my pole classes (because grip, hello). Still, I felt like this positive acknowledgement of their existence needed to be more drastic.

I needed to write a character who recognized her body for what it was and not only accepted it, but learned to love it, right there in the course of the story.

From that, Cassie and her post-counseling bus ride was born…and I went one step further, too, not dooming her with my apple thighs—but giving them to her as a gift.

Cassie is a bit down on her luck when we meet her, but on her bus ride—with the perfect co-passenger—she has that moment I think all women with that “one thing” need: the epiphany in which we realize that yes, we are who we are, and yes, we are just perfect as is.

So without further adieu, I’m delighted to share an excerpt of “Apple Thighs” with you:

Cassie pressed her palms onto her thighs. She’d been blessed with smooth, unblemished skin most of her life, so even stocky as they were, her thighs had the consistent, unmarred fair coloring that covered the rest of her body. As the bus continued its roll down the city streets, the flesh of her thighs shook. She had thin calves and narrow knees, but above them her legs curved out to a substantial width. In truth, she had a lot of muscle in those thighs from years of dancing and running, but they were definitely the outliers from the rest of her body.

She pursed her lips and ran her hands back and forth, grazing her skin. She could rest on her tiptoes to keep her legs up so that her thighs didn’t appear so wide, like two sturdy pancakes smashed out on the seat. But she kind of liked the way they looked. They carried her. They made her womanly. Plus, she was able to outrun all the women in her former running group—big, strong apple thighs and all.

Cassie fanned her fingers over her thighs and rubbed her palms along their length again, sighing. Her skirt caught on her wrists as she glided her hands up, crumpling it at the top of her thighs. She peeked at the seat across from her. Two older women sat there, the one by the window staring out and the one on the aisle reading a book. They didn’t notice her. No one in front of her would see what she was doing, either. She turned her head, checking out the seat behind her at a diagonal. No one there.

But the man behind her cleared his throat.

Cassie flattened her skirt and shoved her hands to her knees, her face burning as she whipped it forward.

Oh, fuck.

Had he seen what she was doing, mindlessly stroking her thighs?

More importantly, was she insane, rubbing her thighs like that in public?

As if in answer, the man lifted himself in his seat. Cassie held her breath. The entire bus was frozen in time, the driver watching the road, and the other occupants reading books, listening to iPods, or chattering about the news. But this man slid around the seat and sat beside her, not a word coming from his mouth as he peered forward.

She turned her head slightly, examining him from the corner of her eye and realizing she’d seen this guy before. She’d even smiled at him once, the last time she’d been stuck on this bus. He was handsome, his face peppered with the tiny hairs of one who didn’t shave everyday, and he had hazel eyes that shimmered thanks to the sun streaming through the window beside her. When she saw him a few days ago, he’d been wearing a baseball cap—but now his sandy blond hair was loose around his ears, making him look a tad older than he once had. Mid-thirty, late thirties…Cassie couldn’t tell. But she could tell that he was some sort of painter, his tee shirt and jeans always speckled with dried paint. Today he wore a spot of fuchsia on his right thumb and a streak of red along his left wrist.

She straightened her head again, her nerves on high. Had he seen what she was doing?

She felt his scrutiny on her then, and a chill fogged her body. When he spoke, his voice came out a deep bass that prickled her skin.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

Cassie shook her head, her fingers latched around her knees. Her legs suddenly felt hugely exposed, though she did choose to wear this skirt in public, and apparently had no problem touching her thighs a minute before.

Idiot.

“It’s a better view,” he said.

Cassie bit down on her tongue.

Maybe he meant the window. Or being one seat closer to the front of the bus.

Or maybe she really was an idiot.

“Yeah,” she said, her heart racing. “Sunny outside today, isn’t it?”

The man raised an eyebrow and smiled. Cassie broke out in goose bumps. She hadn’t made an ass of herself on this bus, had she?

She willed herself to look back at him, wondering if her thighs had turned as crimson as her face—because wow, was she blushing, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. The sensation ran the entire length of her body in under a second.

“It is. But that’s not what I was talking about.” He gazed directly at her thighs, then back to her face. “Please don’t stop on my account.”

Cassie didn’t move.

The man kept grinning at her. She was surprised she didn’t find it uncomfortable, or awkward. In fact, she shifted slightly on the bench, keenly aware of how hot it was at the apex of her apple thighs.

“I…uh…”

Cassie pinched her lips together. Great, now she sounded like an idiot, too.

The man scooted forward in the seat, enough to block her from the view of any other passengers. He was tall, and with the muscles in his arms alone, it was clear he was strong beneath his jeans and tee shirt. She could do whatever she wanted right here in this seat, and no one would be the wiser.

Cassie shook herself. Was she actually thinking about this?

The man put both hands on his thighs, then tilted his head toward her legs before dragging his hands in an upward motion.

He was modeling what he wanted from her.

Her stomach knotted but her heart thumped in her ears. His smile was so sweet, so warm. So encouraging.

She slid her hands up her legs, halting them mid-thigh. Her fingers were shaking.

Now the man cupped his thighs, and Cassie did the same.

Beneath her panties, her groin swelled with heat. The flush running through her body was like a teasing caress, and she gripped her thighs again. He met her eyes and nodded.

“May I?” he asked.

***

I hope you enjoyed that teaser of “Apple Thighs,” included in Begging For It, Erotic Fantasies for Women. You can find out more about this anthology from Cleis Press on its Tumblr Page. It’s edited by the fabulous Rachel Kramer Bussel, and is available now in paperback and in a few more days on Kindle. I hope you’ll please check it out!

Happy reading, and may you love your apple thighs, too. 🙂

XX,
Jade

“Ophelia the Second” – Featured on the Kiss Me Quick’s!

Posted on June 18, 2016June 18, 2016 by Jade A. Waters

Cover for Ophelia the Second by Dayv Caraway

Cover art by Dayv Caraway

There is something extraordinary about hearing one’s own stories read aloud. It’s an opportunity not just to know that your story has been read and heard, but to understand how a reader might translate what you’ve written. In grasping that—for just a second—you can almost relax into your words, listening to them as though they’re not your own, potentially savoring them in a different way than what was experienced when you had the pleasure of writing them.

That’s why today, I’m tickled to share that the fabulous Rose Caraway has once again honored me with a narration of one of my stories. This time, she’s featured “Ophelia the Second” on The Kiss Me Quick’s Erotica Podcast, and she does a tremendous job of it, too. This particular story is part of Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1—and while I had the opportunity to read it live myself back in January, hearing it performed by the incredible Rose has made it twice as special for me. Extra bonus: Big Daddy’s sexy ass intro totally made me blush. 🙂

So, I invite you to please hop on over to The Kiss Me Quick’s to listen to “Ophelia the Second” with your own ears. It’s a sweet little erotic romance that’s got a lot of my theatre background worked in, and it still makes me smile. If you’d like to know more about the spark that ignited “Ophelia the Second,” please feel free to check out my Q&A with our incredibly talented editor, Rachel Kramer Bussel. You can also grab your copy of Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 1 right here.

And finally—since I know you’ll love Rose’s rendition of this story—please indulge yourself in more of her fantastic readings of my work. Rose has honored me with previous readings of “The Doll,” “The Flogger,” and “Soundscapes”—an exclusive for The Kiss Me Quick’s Podcast.

Oh, and that delicious podcast? It’s something you should regularly indulge yourself in, too. 😉

Happy listening!

XX,
Jade

“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

“The Swap” Is Part of Dirty Dates — Out Today!

Posted on November 10, 2015November 8, 2015 by Jade A. Waters

For most of my life, I’ve been one for the experience. Be it riding terrifying rollercoasters, practicing aerial acrobatics, going bungee jumping, working Renaissance Faire, or even just having sex in the snow on the side of a ski run, I love finding all sorts of adventures and giving them a whirl. Rose Caraway pretty much nailed it after interviewing me over at the KMQ’s a few months back: I’m the type of gal who loves to try most everything—because it seems to me that if you’ve never tried it, you never really know what you like.

That’s why I’m slightly blushing to tell you about “The Swap,” out now in Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Dirty Dates: Erotic Fantasies for Couples. Today is the book’s official release day—and also Ms. Bussel’s birthday—so to celebrate both, I’m sharing some backstory…and “The Swap” happens to have an adventurous, real life backstory. The piece is an older one the wonderful Ms. Bussel picked for the anthology, and while I can say wholeheartedly that this tale is a work of fiction, it’s also one of the more reality based stories I’ve ever released into the world.

So let’s start with the story itself…“The Swap” is about a young woman named Serena, whose boyfriend Alex almost always plays the dom when they’re together. But for kicks, Serena’s requested that her boyfriend let her try putting him in the submissive role for a change—and once he says yes, she takes her adventure quite seriously. Serena goes all out in preparation for this event, because she wants to fully appreciate not only the part she’s playing, but everything it entails—which for her involves a specific dress, a vibrator, cuffs, eyelet screws, carabiners, a hell of a lot of chain, and a few holes drilled into the walls. And let’s just say, the two of them end up having a very good time with her ingenuity.

All right, so now you’re probably wondering—what’s the real life adventure behind this?

Here’s a hint: a scene involving five of the six items on Serena’s shopping list. 😉

I reiterate, this story is a work of fiction. My experience played out much, much differently than Serena and Alex’s (which is to say it didn’t really get off the ground), and unfortunately, it also didn’t turn out so well (not all people are as open to adventure as me, okay?). Nonetheless, some fifteen or so years later, I still keenly remember the fun in planning it out, including taking measurements of my room and roaming the aisles of the hardware shop for everything I could possibly need. So when I sat down to write “The Swap,” I wanted to twist the events for a couple who thrived on the same philosophy I have: try everything at least once, or you’ll never really know whether you like it.

Turns out, Serena and Alex really liked it.

Okay—time for an excerpt!

From “The Swap”:

“Glad you’re home, honey,” she said.

Alex set his bag on their drop table and gave her a quick look over. She was still in her own work clothes, and he pinched his eyebrows together in confusion. “I half expected you to be in some sort of getup when I got here,” he said.

“Oh, I’m not done.” She walked over to him. As usual, he wrapped his arms around her for a big kiss. And, also as usual, the way he twirled his tongue with hers sent tingles across her arms and made her instantly eager to strip down and comply with his every whim.

But not as usual, Serena squeezed his hip and pulled away.

“Assuming you’re still okay with the plan,” she said, winking, “I would suggest you take off your clothes.”

Alex chuckled. “Here?”

“Yes, here,” she said. She never giggled at Alex’s requests—at least, not since they’d grown more serious about this whole kinky bondage game they loved to play—and she expected the same right back. “My turn. My rules.” She bit her lip, enjoying the harsh tone she used to command him and the way he started the tiniest amount as she did it. “Now,” she snapped.

Alex unbuttoned his shirt. When he tugged it from his chest and dropped his trousers to the floor, Serena nodded in approval. The bulge in his boxer briefs told her he liked the game, so she stepped close enough for her chest to almost touch his and tilted her lips up toward his face.

“If you kiss me, I’ll touch you,” she said. It was one of his famous lines, and she delivered it with the same punch of temptation he did when he had her bound and whimpering beneath him.

Alex kissed her hard, and Serena cupped his dick through his underwear. He groaned against her mouth, then shifted his hips so he could rub more closely against her palm.

“Nope,” she said, yanking her hand away. “That’s not what I said. Now I guess I’ll have to tie you down.”

Alex’s expression told her everything she wanted to know—how curious he was, how aroused he felt, and how surprised he was at the way she’d already flipped their roles around. She rubbed the thick wedge of his cock through the fabric again and he lurched in her hand.

“Jesus, I want you,” he moaned.

“Soon. Here’s what I want you to do, Alex.” She leaned up to his ear, her heart racing as she ordered him around. This was so different, so much fun—never mind exciting, since her panties were already drenched with the images of what she had planned. “You’re going to take off your underwear and close your eyes. I’m going to blindfold you and take you to the bedroom. Are you okay with this so far?”

Alex was good about asking her if she was all right with each stage of their bondage games, and she wanted him just as comfortable. So when he nodded and closed his eyes, she grabbed the blindfold she’d left on the coffee table and returned to find him rock hard. Serena gave a quiet gasp at the sight—Alex naked was always a treat, and here he was: submissive, eyes closed, and ready for her to play with—but she shook it off. She would have her way with him soon enough.

“Good boy,” she said, reaching up to blindfold him. She made sure to accidentally rub her hips against his crotch as she tied the fabric over his face, which sent the heat right between her legs. Serena reminded herself that as much as she wanted to bend over and have him fuck her right here in the living room, she had to carry out her plan. It was her one chance.

She took his wrists. “Follow me.”

“Yes ma’am.” Alex let her guide him around the corner and down the hall, and Serena enjoyed the rush of control. They got all the way to the bedroom where she made him stand in the middle of the carpet, then she wrapped the cuffs around his ankles and wrists, snugging the buckles against his skin.

“How are you?” she asked. She grinned at her boyfriend wearing nothing but cuffs. She’d been like this for him so many times, but this reversal was giving her chills.

“I’m good so far,” he said, shaking his wrists about. He reached out for her but she dodged.

“Alex! Stand still,” she said. When he pouted, she gave his thigh a smack.

“Tease,” he muttered.

“Shh,” she snapped. “Hold still.”

Quickly, she grabbed each of the four carabiners and locked him into place.

***

And…you will find the rest of this adventure tucked neatly into Dirty Dates!

I am so thrilled to be included in another of Rachel Kramer Bussel’s anthologies, and honored to be in great company with a roster of amazing contributors. This is sure to be a delectable anthology full of hot erotic fantasies, so please pick up your copy on Amazon today!

Happy reading—and may your adventures be aplenty! 🙂

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

“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 Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica

Posted on September 24, 2014September 23, 2014 by Jade A. Waters

Hi everyone! Today I’m thrilled to be the next stop on Rose Caraway’s The Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica tour! This book is positively fabulous—it mixes genres, sex, and one incredibly sexy librarian to meet all sorts of desires. Some of you may recall that I jumped on the live book tour and did a little reading with Ms. Caraway, so I admit, I’m a tad biased. However, this book has so many delicious things going for it, I had to share!

Here’s the thing—beyond the sexy cover (on which the model is “wearing a book,” according to the very clever Ms. Caraway), this isn’t just a book of erotica. It’s a collection of carefully curated stories containing massive variety, which is what’s made it such a delightful read. It truly is a librarian’s anthology, complete with an “old-fashioned” library catalog entry to classify each story. Take, for example, the card from one of my favorites:

As you can see, this special touch not only makes the book fun, but it allows the reader to pick exactly what she or he is in the mood for. (Seriously, why has this never been done before?) In this case, I saw the name Tamsin Flowers (whom most of you know I adore), the category “Superheros” and then the subject “Spandex”—and hello. I was in!

But there’s more than clever cards making this book so great. The sexy librarian herself, Rose Caraway, has done a wonderful job of collecting beautiful, artistic, and oft-literary pieces that take the erotica genre to a whole new level. Take “Mikhael” by Angela Caperton—this was another of my favorites written in an exquisitely dark voice, a voyeuristic supernatural/ghost story with some smoking f/f scenes to spice the whole thing up. Kristina Wright’s “Vivi and the Magic Man” was another lovely twist, mixing fantasy and horror with such a rich gypsy feel I could picture Port City and everything that happened there (and you’ll have to read it to figure out what, but my hint is straight from the catalog card: “Demon Orgy”). While I have a fondness for speculative fiction stories, there were other works in here that added something for everyone— “The Mating Chamber” by Caraway herself takes us on a journey through mating customs in a matriarchal (and seriously sexy) society; “Notes on a Scandal” by Kelly Maher paints a charming library romance complete with love letters; and Kate Maxwell’s “The Skilled Technician” still has me wishing my car would break down, like, stat.

But you don’t have to take my word for it. To whet your appetite, I have an exclusive excerpt to share with you!

From Kay Jaybee’s “Taped”:

Flinging the back doors of his transit van wide open, Ryan called to his girlfriend as she unlocked the industrial-sized greenhouse where they worked. “Are you still up for helping me do the deliveries today, Beth?”

“Sure am.” Beth began to box up some plants ready for loading.

Ryan’s lips curved up suggestively as he took the first tray of flowerpots from her outstretched hands. “Good. A bit of company could be fun.”

Beth couldn’t help but smile back when she saw the mischievous glint in his mahogany eyes. “No need to look so excited, I’m only going to be carrying boxes of flowers in and out of your van.

The That’s what you think, stare Ryan gave her in reply sent a mild stirring of unease tripping down Beth’s spine.

Holding Beth’s gaze, Ryan picked up three thick blankets. “You can start by helping me lay these blankets on the van floor.”

The memory of the fantasy Ryan had shared with her the night before, as they’d rolled around, limbs entangled, on his king-sized bed, suddenly loomed large in Beth’s mind. “You aren’t serious?”

Not sure she wanted to hear Ryan answer her question, Beth busied herself with wrapping extra strips of bubble-wrap around the bases of the flowerpots, giving herself time to remember how to breathe properly. She knew precisely what that dangerously sexy expression on Ryan’s face could mean.

Two months ago, while walking along a beach, he’d shared a seafront fucking fantasy with her. The next minute Beth had been on her hands and knees, her lover’s beautiful cock easing in and out of her, while her nub was tickled with the tip of a hermit-crab shell. The memory of how scared she’d been of someone spotting them while they rutted in the sand, and how aroused the thought of discovery had made her, sent quivers of confused longing through Beth’s chest. The look he’d given her then, and the one Ryan was giving her now, were almost identical.

“You know I’m serious.”

***
Sexy, hmm? So, what you’ll want to do right now is pick up your very own copy of this book. You can buy it on Amazon, at Barnes and Noble, and at Cleis Press.

But wait! I have more news. Want to hear some of these stories live? Rose Caraway will be reading at Books, Inc. in the San Francisco Castro at 7:30pm tonight, and then again tomorrow, September 25th, at the Good Vibes Lakeshore store in Oakland, CA from 6:30 to 8:30pm. I’m extra tickled to be helping her read on this latter date alongside the talented Sinclair Sexsmith! If you can, please join Rose Caraway at one of these events—watching her read from The Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica is quite a treat!

In the meantime, don’t forget to pick up your copy.

XX,
Jade