Tantalizing Terrors…to Come

Posted on October 19, 2015October 18, 2015 by Jade A. Waters

Halloween, Halloween…it’s in the air! This is the time of year when everything starts to get a little bit creepy, fun, and wild—and that’s why today, I could no longer resist giving you a tantalizing preview of the delicious, sexy terror to come!

Libidinous Zombie is a project orchestrated by the fabulous Rose Caraway of The Kiss Me Quick’s. She’s a woman who likes her erotica with a twist, and because of that, I can assure you that the stories within will merge horror and erotica into something mighty combustible. I have so much to tell you about my story, “The Lucky One,” once this is out—but for now, I’m just going to leave you with a few teases.

First, the fantastic art for “The Lucky One,” created by the amazing Dayv Caraway:

(Catch the art for all the stories right here!)

Next, check out the incredible lineup of other authors you’ll find included in the pages:

Allen Dusk
Janine Ashbless
Malin James
Raziel Moore
Remittance Girl
Tamsin Flowers
Rose Caraway

Finally, don’t miss this thoughtful post from Remittance Girl about the psychological reality behind the blending of erotica and horror!

This anthology is coming out for Halloween, which is just around the corner…are you ready?

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

Interviewed on Inside the Erotica Author’s Studio!

Posted on July 11, 2015July 12, 2015 by Jade A. Waters

The most exciting thing happened earlier this week—the lovely Rose Caraway of The Kiss Me Quick’s Erotica Podcast had me up to her studio to record an interview! Wow!

Rose Caraway is the editor of The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30, a collection in which I am lucky enough to have two stories, “The Bells” and “The Doll.” To celebrate the release of this book, Rose has been interviewing the contributors on her “Inside the Erotica Author’s Studio” series. The whole idea is to introduce you to each of us while finding out more about us and our stories. I could not be more thrilled to be a part of this book, and now to have had the privilege of talking with Rose in her actual studio—well, let’s just say the whole experience has completely boggled my mind.

We had such a great conversation about all sorts of things—you’ll find out about my tendency to try just about anything, how I write, thoughts on my stories, my experience with having an agent, and even an interesting date accident I almost had. Rose is positively one of the sweetest people on the planet, as is the amazing Big Daddy, so this interview made me feel right at home in their studio!

If you’d like to check it out, you can do so right here with the player below. Or, if you’d like to read Rose’s show notes alongside the interview, you can click on over to The KMQ’s. Either way, I hope you enjoy listening to us as much as I enjoyed my time hanging at The KMQ’s!

Also, don’t forget to check out The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30 in audiobook or ebook format. And if you’d like to hear some of my previous work narrated on The Kiss Me Quick’s, check out my story “Soundscapes,” or a poem, “Owned.” It’s been a privilege working with The KMQ’s, and now to be interviewed by them!

Thanks so much for joining us!

XX,
Jade

N.B. You can now listen to “The Doll” narrated by the fabulous Rose Caraway right here!

Erotic Fiction: “Passerby”

Posted on June 15, 2015December 29, 2016 by Jade A. Waters

At the start of the month, the incredible Molly Moore chose a Kink of the Week theme of anonymous sex, a topic she’d been thinking on for a while but that she sweetly said was re-inspired by reading my story, “A Taste.”

I’ve been delighted to see all the stories, essays, and musings roused by this theme—and since Molly paid me such a lovely compliment, I knew it was time to pull the following story out from my desktop files to finally meet the world. It’s got a very different tone than “A Taste,” but since it fit the theme so perfectly, I couldn’t resist.

I hope you enjoy…

XX,
Jade

PASSERBY

Jade A. Waters

Celine had walked down Fremont Street at least four thousand times in her life.

It was always consistent—storefront after storefront, the occasional woman with a stroller, a pissing dog by one of ten fire hydrants. She’d never left this town and still didn’t know if she ever would, because everything was familiar and quaint here. She could rattle off the business hours of any shop simply from her constant walks back and forth, home to work, work to home. She didn’t like to drive, preferring the fresh air against her face while she processed everything she’d seen that day, or what she might do that evening. She didn’t even take her car to the grocery store, instead favoring the slap of her shoes on the pavement and the opportunity to observe all the sparks of life around her.

Because that’s what she did: observe. It was part of her job as a research tech, and part of her role back in her student days, too. Watching. Recording. Thinking. Processing. Wondering. All the magic she saw happened in test tubes, petri dishes, and experiments. It amazed her that despite the bevy of surprises in the lab, her life repeatedly followed an invariable routine.

Celine adjusted her bag on her shoulder. Sometimes, she wondered if she should have left after high school. It wasn’t that she ran into her alumni all the time, or saw too many of the same people, time and again—but other than the flickers of life she discovered in the lab, all of it was repetitive. Storefront. Stroller. Dog. Today she saw the postwoman, her arm stretched in a wave as she walked along the other side of the street.

How many times had the postwoman been up and down Fremont Street?

A gust of wind picked up as Celine approached the library. It was pleasant, different. It blew her skirt to the side, gathering the fabric against her legs and sending it in a flutter toward the road as if trying to steer her in a new direction. She’d probably been inside the city library two hundred times as a teen, and on occasion when the research shelves at work didn’t have what she sought. It was the last business before a long stretch of recreational parks and trees; beyond that, the road broke into the residential section of town.

Celine closed her eyes as she walked, picturing the cells in her petri dishes growing larger, into full shapes. Life. Their latest experiment was really something, and she could already form the lines of the report she’d send off to the American Journal of Science in the next year. She inhaled excitedly, enjoying the whiff of honeysuckle from the park behind the library, the pungent, sweet scent carrying on the breeze. It was myrrh with a hint of citrus, an unusual combination, she thought. Celine opened her eyes.

Two fire hydrants down on the road, a man walked toward her. She tilted her head—somehow, she hadn’t noticed him before.

But now Celine, ever the observer, watched as he neared her. He started as a small speck in the distance—a dark-haired, tall stranger. Closer and closer he came as Celine walked down Fremont Street. She could see him clearer now, wearing jeans, tee shirt, and flip flops. He appeared casual yet clean, his hair thick and black, and falling just below his ears. He was handsome, almost like a better version of her high school sweetheart, if he had been darker and older.

She was at the library now and the man was close, his torso broad beneath his shirt as his muscular arms swung at his sides. He had the kind of body she fantasized about when she was alone in her house night after night. Maybe it was the wind, or more likely it was the view, but goose bumps sprinkled over her skin. He was still a bit down the road and yet Celine could make out his face. He had green eyes, a stern nose, and a smiling mouth. There was much more life in him than that of a petri dish.

And he was such a different view than she’d ever seen on Fremont Street.

They passed each other as two passersby on a stretch of quiet road do—she didn’t say anything and neither did he. But when she met his eyes, she nodded a hello. Her body surprised her as she did. There was a vibration deep in her core, a pang of longing that she hadn’t felt in a while. He smelled like aftershave, the good kind that didn’t overpower or suffocate like that of her supervisor or her ex-boyfriend. And up close and brushing by her shoulder, the man’s arm sent a quiver through her limbs. His torso was almost twice as broad as she’d thought from a distance, and she had a spontaneous wonder over what it would feel like to touch his skin and to kiss him, or to feel him pressing inside.

Then he was past her, a single variable on the same old street.

Celine kept walking but slowed her pace. She was a scientist through and through—researching, observing, processing. It occurred to her that walking past the man had been like breaking through an invisible shield, both of them trapped for a minute in a magnetic vortex before sliding past one other and back into their own worlds.

Then again, it could have been her imagination, her constant wonder over how everything outside of work was so routine.

Celine cast a second glance over her shoulder, regardless.

The man did the same.

She faced home and took another step. She’d passed hundreds of faces—smiling here, waving there. Always constant.

But what if, this time, it was different?

What if he’d felt it, too?

Celine turned around. Her throat was parched but she shouted anyway.

“Hey,” she said.

Immediately, the man pivoted on his feet. His lips stretched in a bigger grin.

“Hey.”

Celine’s experiments for the last three years introduced foreign cells to those already growing in her petri dishes. Cell Type X, adhering with A, B, or C. Watching them fuse together in the dish had made her nipples harden beneath her coat—it was something unusual and new.

Like this man.

He came back, hovering a good foot taller than her. His face was clearer now that she could see him up close. He smelled of aftershave because his face was smoothly shaven, and on his neck he had the tiniest nick from a razor blade. His shirt was blue and faded, grazing the waist of his jeans. He removed his hands from his pockets. He had a large watch on his left wrist and a jagged scar on his arm, just below the hem of his right sleeve.

This is the arm he curled around her waist.

Celine’s breath caught, her skin teased with another gust of wind and the nearness of this man, smiling down at her.

What if Cell X and Cell A mixed?

What if they collided in a furious storm, creating new cells and surprising everyone with the aftermath? The discovery?

Celine raised her chin, offering her lips. She had a flash of how crazy it was, and yet there was something about this man, this random passerby she’d never seen on her walk before. When she didn’t pull away, he coiled his other arm around her waist and tugged her into him, his chest firm against hers. His cock swelled beneath his jeans.

Celine found this most fascinating, since she, too, was aroused in the strangest way. She shifted her feet, squaring herself in his arms. Her pussy was wet, wetter than it had ever been in four thousand walks down this sidewalk.

And when the man lowered his lips to hers, she imagined cells bursting.

His mouth was a little rough, his tongue exploring the crease of her lips. She opened them for him. Their tongues merged in a fit of kissing, both of them magnetized by this sudden change on a gusty afternoon. Celine leaned into him, feeling the thump of his heart within his chest that matched the one within hers.

She wanted him inside of her then, this stranger she didn’t know.

She slipped her hand into his and he broke their kiss, staring down over her face. Maybe she should have said something, but it didn’t feel necessary.

Cell X and Cell A didn’t speak.

Why should they?

Artem Merzlenko ©123RF.com

Celine and the man walked through the library parking lot. They eyed one another, unspeaking. Behind the building, there was a row of trees lining a fence that separated the property from yet another recreational park. It was absurd how many parks filled this endless, quaint town.

There was no one in the park when the man backed Celine against the library wall. She didn’t know if she would have minded if there was, either, because as he kissed her again, heat surged in her center. It was an unexpected sensation, for the first time in a long time. She laced her fingers in his hair, enjoying the soft thickness on her skin. His hands caressed her shoulders while they kissed and she curled her arms around his waist, inviting him closer. When he pitched himself against her she moaned, shivering as his hands ran down her sides, then under her shirt. He palmed her belly in gentle strokes and glided his fingers up to her bra. When he thumbed her nipples she tilted back her head, letting him shower her neck in kisses.

Celine knew some experiments moved in rapid time. She arched up her hips, wanting the rub of him lower and deeper. The man gazed into her eyes, questioning. Wondering. Like she’d done so many times as she walked down Fremont Street or marveled at the growth in a petri dish. His fingers plucked at her skirt, dragging the fabric up, revealing her calves to the baffling wind. When he crept his hands higher, his fingertips trailed over her hips and she nestled her face into his chest, smelling him against the backdrop of honeysuckle and the growl of the air around them.

She curved her hands over his ass, gripping his muscular cheeks. Nudging him against her. He slipped his fingers beneath the edge of her panties, playing across her short curls, then over her clit. Celine moaned and lifted her face up to his.

“Yes,” she said. She brushed her lips across his t-shirt and repeated the single word, loud over the wind. “Yes.”

The man’s fingers sank into her while he kissed her again. His tongue slid deep, and his fingers plunged far. The rhythm of his thrusts stirred Celine. She whimpered against his lips as he glided his fingers faster, as if seeking inside her with probing fingers while he pressed his cock hard against her side. She shoved her hand in his pants and grabbed onto him, stroking his length as he fucked her hip. The man groaned into her mouth. Celine imagined cells growing and multiplying, splitting and stunning—complex yet simple things. Her body trembled as the man pushed his fingers in and out, teasing her depths. His kisses broke into gasps over her mouth and cheeks, hot puffs of air that mimicked hers. She began to shudder. Her walls trembled around his fingers, flooding with life, contracting with bliss until a cry fell from her lips. The man smothered her in a kiss then, coming in her hand. The hot liquid coated her wrist and warmed her hip through all of the fabric between them.

For several minutes, they didn’t move. They were frozen against the building, statues in the wind—proof of an experiment gone well. His shaft pulsed in her palm and the aftershocks in her sex squeezed his fingers. Eventually, she raised her eyes. The man kissed Celine’s forehead, then her lips, and they slowly untangled themselves and broke apart.

Without a word, he took her hand. They walked back to the front of the library. Celine’s heart had resumed a moderate pace again, the same tempo she was used to, day in and day out. But now, she had a smile on her face.

When they reached the sidewalk, the man wrapped her in his arms for a long, tight embrace.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You, too,” she said.

And then they walked in their separate directions again.

While Celine headed toward home, she enjoyed the breeze against her arms and the familiar stretch of the road.

She’d walked down Fremont Street over four thousand times, but her life had never looked so new.

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.

Malin and I Talk Fifty Shades of Grey – in Stereo!

Posted on February 16, 2015February 16, 2015 by Jade A. Waters

As you may well know, Malin James and I are the best of pals. We have a knack for chatter, laughter, and ridiculously good times. So for Valentine’s Day this year, we opted to take ourselves out to see the hugely hyped and widely discussed Fifty Shades of Grey. I mean, we do write erotica and all, so it made sense—and by golly, we were going to go into it open-minded and with the intent of making the best of it.

Here we are before the show:

Pre-Fifty Shades in Our Super Shades

Since we’d both planned to write blog posts on the movie, we had some things to bounce around afterward. But when we found ourselves chatting over our usual Thai lunch with so very many things to say, we got to thinking…what if we just had this chat over a microphone and shared our thoughts in audio with all of you?

So, that’s exactly what we did. We ended up having a smashing good time (so much so that we should probably apologize in advance for how loud the cackling got), and we hope you enjoy our take on this highly debated erotica blockbuster.

Also, I should mention: outtakes. 🙂

And with that…

Malin and Jade Talk Fifty Shades of Grey:

Thank you so much for joining us!

XX,
Jade

Coming Together: Among the Stars…Goes Traveling!

Posted on January 29, 2015January 29, 2015 by Jade A. Waters

Okay, everyone, confession time:

Rose Caraway, Malin James and I got sneaky!

Today we want to let you in on it.

See, the fabulous Lynn Townsend pulled together some kick ass stories for our recent release, Coming Together: Among the Stars. The book is a collection of sexy sci-fi erotica stories from fantastic authors, all of them curated in the name of charity—a good one, too, as proceeds for the book go to the International Still’s Disease Foundation.

What’s Still’s Disease, you ask? The disease is a more severe version of juvenile idiopathic arthritis, and can affect both children and adults (though the disease is more prevalent in children under 16). It is characterized by, among other things, intermittent salmon-colored rashes, spiking fevers, and swelling of internal organs and arthritis. It also remains a bit of a mystery in terms of causes and risk factors. There is much more to learn about it, and if you would like to do so, please visit the International Still’s Disease Foundation website.

We of the book believe this is a great cause, which is why we’re all thrilled to be included in its pages. Sex and space is already a stellar combo, but sex and space for Still’s? Superb!

But okay, seriously, alliteration aside—Rose, Malin and I believed this was such a big deal, we wanted to do a little something extra for the book and its cause. Rose, in her infinite wisdom, gathered the three of us together to surprise Lynn Townsend with a special traveling SIGNED edition of Coming Together: Among the Stars. That is, this lovely book has been bouncing between us in California at various locales. It’s been on the road, out to lunch, out to coffee, and, before its final trek home, it made a guest appearance at a picnic party in San Francisco!

I even have pics to prove it—here’s me reading the book right next to the entrance of the Moon-Viewing Garden at the San Francisco Botanical Garden Park (appropriate location for a book set in space, wouldn’t you say?):

To be honest, I didn’t get much reading in at this party—but I can definitely say the book got more viewing than the moon did in the middle of the day. 😉

So, there you have it: our big secret. The book is signed by all three of us, and Ms. Townsend, we’re tickled to tell you it’s on the next leg of its journey—in the mail to you!

Readers, if you haven’t already, please check out this fabulous anthology to support a wonderful cause. You can read an excerpt and the back story for my contribution to the collection (“The Joy Ride”) right here, and then we hope you’ll pick up your very own copy on Amazon.

Thanks for your support, everyone!

XX,
Jade

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