Portia's Prose

NO LONGER FORBIDDEN - mini excerpt

2009-07-07T14:15:00.005+01:00

Reaching up, I slip my fingers around the back of his head again, relishing the soft silkiness of his dark curls. His hair is longer now, and I glory in that. It feels gorgeous to the touch as I draw his face to mine and start kissing his mouth, exploring it with little nibbles and darts of my tongue.

Mr. Laurence. Beautiful Mr. Laurence. My fantasy man. Here. Now. For real.

Even though I’ve taken the initiative, within a heartbeat he owns it again. His arms slide around me, hands roving, while his mouth matches mine in a contest of sexy little forays, flicks of the tongue, nips and probes. With his lips against my ear, I feel the heat of his breath on my neck, as he whispers, “You are everything I dreamed about, Annie. All these years… I thought I’d got over you, but I never did, you were still there, always at the back of my mind. Like a beautiful perfume caught in my brain, always reminding me of what I’d wanted but couldn’t have.”

I blink as we kiss. His thoughts are my thoughts. His feelings the same. For an instant, I ache for the wasted years, but then realize, maybe I wasn’t ready until now.

“But you can have me now. And I can have you,” I whisper boldly against his neck, opening my mouth on the words, tasting the clean, vaguely salt flavor of his skin.

“Hell yes,” he growls, his hand on my bottom, massaging, working my pelvis against his erection, “I’d do a ‘me Tarzan, you Jane’ and pick you up and carry you into the bedroom, but my leg is pretty much just screwed together in places and I don’t want to falter and drop you.”

“I’m happy to walk…” Pausing, I nip at his soft lower lip, then laugh, “In fact, I’ll run there, then strip off and wait for you, if you like?”

“Wicked girl,” he purrs, taking control of the kiss and pushing his tongue into my mouth, hot and wild and thrilling.

Available from eHarlequin, Fictionwise, Books on Board Sony Ebook Store and Amazon Kindle

No Longer Forbidden by Portia Da Costa
Harlequin Spice Briefs ® 2009 ISBN 9781426836367
© 2009 Portia Da Costa
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher

Another Chance - micro taster

2009-04-04T09:57:00.002+01:00

ANOTHER CHANCE is linked to Chance of a Lifetime.

Archivist Maud Piper has already had one sexy voyeuristic encounter with estate steward William Graves... and now she want more, a lot more, of the big, beautiful, forbidding man...

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Still, my heart beats hard. And down below, the slow stir of desire rolls in my loins. From within the cottage, there’s a faint clanking sound, metal on metal. What the hell is he doing? The door is stout, and the walls look thick, so I don’t hear footsteps. But a moment later, the heavy iron handle turns and the door swings ajar.

William Graves stands in the opening, looking me over with silent watchfulness, apparently unsurprised.

Moments tick by and I open my mouth to speak, but he pre-empts me.

“Come in out of the cold… I’ve been expecting you.”

My pulse races and my desire twists hard. He knows! He knows what I want! And he’s ready…

I follow him into the softly lit room and discover what the clanking was. Furniture is pushed aside in the small room, and a collection of ponderous looking free weights are laid out on the carpet in front of the blazing open fire. Without speaking, William hauls them aside, one after the other. He’s naked to the waist, wearing only combat trousers and a pair of work boots, and his skin gleams like beaten bronze in the flickering light. Still without a word, he drags a couple of battered and hefty looking easy chairs closer to the hearth and indicates that I should sit down, first gesturing in his spare, economical way for me to hand over my hat and coat. He looms over me while I struggle with normally easy fastenings, his big delicious body pushing all my buttons.

William Graves is younger than me, possibly by a decade, but something in his dark, navy blue eyes is as old as eternity. What happened to him, I wonder as I shrug out of my coat and pass it across. It’s not only his solid arms and his deep chest that are hard. He has an intrinsic hardness, a granite of the spirit.

Without asking me what I want, he pours generous slugs of Glenmorangie into a couple of cheap glasses, and hands one over.

“So how can I help you?”

“About last night…”

The two phrases come out simultaneously, and it’s like an unseen bubble bursts. We both laugh and the tension is gone. The whisky tastes good when I finally take a sip.

He nods, giving me precedence.

“What happened last night… I just wanted to say that I liked it. I liked it very much. I was… um…” Despite my superficial confidence, I falter… “I was hoping we might, well, follow up on it. Do more…”

His brows shoot up, and his cool eyes brighten and warm. He takes a long pull at his drink, then rubs a big hand over his short, dark brown hair as if genuinely puzzled… and admiring.

“You’re very direct, aren’t you?” he says softly.

Meet the Marquis

2008-11-01T15:08:00.004Z

CHANCE OF A LIFETIME - Portia Da Costa

When Rose takes a temporary job at a dilapidated stately home, while waiting to pursue her dream career in the Caribbean, she doesn't expect to get involved with her mysterious, attractive and rather kinky boss... The Marquis.

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At seven o’clock, I’m staring at the door to the little sitting room. It was half in my mind not to turn up. To try and pretend that what happened beyond that slab of oak never happened. But doing that would be to miss… well… miss the chance of a lifetime. I might never meet a man again who’s into the things that the Marquis is, and I might go through life having perfectly ordinary, perfectly satisfactory sex, but still wondering what it would have been like to try the extraordinary kind with spanking and strange mind-games.

I knock as firmly as I can on the door, and immediately that deep, clear voice calls out “Enter!” from within. Crikey, he already sounds like a stern schoolmaster summoning his tardy pupil.

I tremble.

But there’s nothing fearsome or intimidating when I step into the room and close the door behind me. It’s cozy and welcoming, with a nice little fire burning in the grate to ward off the unseasonal damp chill. The thick curtains are drawn, and soft lamps emit a friendly golden glow that flatters the fine old furniture and makes it gleam.

It flatters the Marquis too, not that he needs it. He looks stunning.

He’s in all in black again, as ever. Tight black jeans embrace his long legs, and the splendid lean musculature of his thighs and his backside. As he rises to his feet from the depths of one of the armchairs, I imagine, for a fleeting second, spanking him!

Blood fills my cheeks in a raging blush, and I falter and hang back. A huge waft of guilt rushes through me at even thinking that. I open my mouth, but I can’t speak, and he smiles at me.

“Come on in, Rose. Would you like a drink?” I notice that he has a glass with something clear and icy set on a little table beside his chair. Vodka? Water? Gin? Who knows…

“Um… er… yes.” I flick my glance to the sideboard and a few bottles, but I can’t seem to compute what’s there so I just say, “Whatever you’re having… please.”

“Good choice… and do sit down.” He gesture like Renaissance courtier towards a free chair by the fire, and watches me as I make my way there, terrified I’ll trip or something, despite the fact my heels aren’t high or spindly.

I take my seat, and watch him mix my drink, swiftly combining clear spirit, ice, mixer and a sliver of lemon. He prepares the concoction perfectly, despite the fact that he’s studying me intently almost all the time.

I’ve dressed carefully.

Jeans are awkward to wriggle out of, especially if you’ve got a curvy bottom like mine, so I’ve chosen a soft, full summer skirt that almost sweeps the floor. A mini skirt would be too obvious, not lady-like and as I’m here with an aristocrat, I’m compelled to make an effort to be worthy of him.

On my top half I’ve got a little buttoned camisole, pink to match the skirt, and a light cotton cardigan over that, to keep out the chills. My shoes are low-heeled and quite pretty, and underneath I’m wearing my best and sexiest underwear.

I aim to please…

The Marquis comes across and hands me my drink, then retreats to his own chair. There’s a moment of silence, tense for me, but apparently totally relaxed for him, and I snatch the opportunity to feast my eyes on his gorgeousness.

He sits so elegantly, even though he’s totally at ease. Long legs out in front of him, booted feet crossed.

Boots?

Hell, yes! They do something visceral inside me. They make me shudder and my sex clench and seem to twist and flutter with their connotations of masterfulness. They’re old and soft and well polished and not all that tall, but all the same, I almost feel faint just looking at them.

And I get mostly the same feeling from the rest of him.

He’s got the most exquisite black silk shirt on, full of sleeve and so fluid it seems to float on his body. The collar’s fastened up for the moment, but I have the most intense urge to crawl on my hands and knees across the room and rip it open so I can kiss his throat and his chest and suck his nipples.

And not just his nipples.

His thick black hair is shiny with a fresh washed satin-sheen and his fine boned face has the delicious gleam of a recent shave.

Bless him, he’s made as much of an effort for me as I have for him. Another reason to worship and adore him.

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Available now from eHarlequin Fictionwise Books on Board and Amazon Kindle.

IN TOO DEEP - NC17 mini taster...

2008-03-19T17:42:00.002Z

For connoisseurs of the old UATW scene... Professor Hottie McHotstuff and Gwen the buxom librarian get busy in the mop cupboard...

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We step inside and the foyer is deserted and cool, smelling of floor polish. Again comes the thorny question of handshake, hug, kiss, or more, but suddenly there are voices from above and the sound of feet on the open staircase leading upwards.

Expecting him to step away from me and begin some kind of fabricated conversation, I catch my breath when Daniel glances quickly around, then grabs me by the hand and hauls me into the little maintenance alcove tucked away at the back of the foyer, beyond the staircase. It doubles back on itself, and contains assorted cleaning equipment – mops and buckets and watering cans for building’s ornamental potted plants.

The voices are in the hall now, and so I can’t cry out and protest when Daniel edges me backward, against the wall, moving deep into my personal space and owning it completely. His left hand shoots out, cupping the back of my neck as he pulls my face to his and presses his lips on mine. While his tongue possesses my mouth, that tricky right hand of his is back on my thigh, sliding, sliding, rubbing the fabric of my skirt against my skin.

His mouth is voracious, compelling me to open mine and accept his tongue. The taste of his tongue makes my pussy flutter and yearn for his cock. Its thrusting action is blatant, delicious, intoxicating. I try to give back as good as I’m getting but he’s a tyrant, he subdues me, he’s in control.

And it’s not just with his mouth.

He’s not an awesomely tall man, but he’s got power, and momentum, and a hunger to match my own. He drives me back against the wall, only just avoiding us cannoning into a galvanised mop bucket and making a huge commotion.

As I hit the plaster, his hand whips down, then up again, sliding my skirt right up my thighs and admitting his fingers between my legs in the space of a heartbeat.

I gasp, but the inhalation draws his breath into my mouth. I feel as if his spirit rushes in with it, another possession to match the invasion of his tongue.

And his fingers.

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More here

And you can pre order it.... :)

From Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk

WATCHING THE DETECTIVE - unedited NC17 excerpt

2007-08-09T13:53:00.000+01:00

WATCHING THE DETECTIVE - Portia Da Costa

Published in the LOVE ON THE DARK SIDE collection of erotic paranormal short stories.

Vicky and her boyfriend Sam are in bed, watching an all night marathon of Vicky's favourite cop show...

As the Channel ident flashes, I steal a split second glance at Sam, but he’s fast asleep already, mouth open, mad, black, curly hair sticking up at all angles and a tea stain down the front of his muscle vest. What a contrast to the sartorial GQ treat that lies ahead of me.

The story preamble begins. Some nasty perp up to no good as usual, but I’m not yet paying full attention due to The Detective not appearing until after the credits. Then the credits begin… thunder rolls… and the room goes black!

‘Fucking, fuckety fuck!’ I shout, regardless of Sam’s slumbers, and like an idiot, I start stabbing buttons on the remote still in my hand. As if that’ll restore the electricity.

And yet, against the odds, it does do something. Thunder cracks again and the lights flicker faintly but only for a second. They go out again, but astonishingly, the television springs back to life. The screen looks slightly blue tinted, but not too badly. It’s still perfectly watchable.

And the credits of my beloved cop show are still a-rolling.

At least it seems to be my cop show. My heart leaps again with bubbling excitement. It must be a special episode or something - maybe recorded just for this marathon - because the sequence of images isn’t one I’ve ever seen before. The frames are sharp, ultra clear, almost 3D, and as they fade from one to the other, each one of the hairs on the back of my neck seem to prickle and rise individually. And even though it’s the same familiar music, and the same graphic styling, there’s only the one character featured in the montage.

It’s just The Detective with no sign whatsoever of the rest of the team.

And at the end, he seems to walk towards the camera, my guy, tall and intent, dressed in an immaculate thousand dollar suit of bluish grey. His long stride eats up the ground, and as he approaches, he just keeps on coming… and coming… and coming…

‘Vicky Sheridan?’ he enquires imperiously when he reaches me, flipping out his hand‑cuffs from the clip at his belt. But before I can answer, he grabs me by the shoulder, hauls me from the bed and snaps the cuffs on me while I’m still wondering what’s happening and trying to catch my breath.

What?

‘You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.’ He grips my shoulder again, and propels me forward, parroting out the Miranda as if I’m the lowest of low -life of scuzz-buckets he’s just apprehended. ‘You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you at government expense. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?’

By now he’s manhandling me through a familiar door into a familiar room, and I’m so gob‑smacked I don’t have a breath of resistance in me.

It’s the interrogation room. We’re in a familiar chilly grey box with the mirror and the metal table and chairs that I’ve seen in scores of episodes. And it’s just as soulless and intimidating in real life as it is on the television.

Real life? What the hell am I talking about ‘real life’ for? My heart’s bouncing around as if it’s on a bungee and my skin is a pointillist fresco of painful goose-bumps. This isn’t real. How can I be here?

LOVE ON THE DARK SIDE is available from Amazon.co.uk now and from Amazon.com on 16th October 07

GOTHIC BLUE - manuscript excerpt NC17

2007-03-29T20:27:00.000+01:00

'Who were you yelling at?' enquired Jonathan as she re-entered the folly. He was lying on the divan, and his hand was near his crotch, so Belinda guessed he had been caressing his penis. He snatched away his fingers as she approached him across the tiles, as if not wanting her to think he needed manual stimulation.

Belinda knew she didn't need it. Her climax in the forest had primed her erotic spirit, and her sex felt empty, and in need of male possession. Half throwing herself onto the divan beside Jonathan, she crawled up onto her hands and her knees, and offered him her body in the most enticing way she knew. Poised on all fours, she undulated her hips, her thighs wide apart... Her whole body was wet, but her female flesh was wetter still, and she knew that with the next bold of lightning, he would see that.

Right on cue, the sky opened and pealed, and with a hoarse cry, Jonathan hurled himself upon her.

He slid in with such speed, and to such a depth that Belinda was pushed forward and squashed under him. As he pounded her and pushed her, she gnawed the old velour beneath her, and gouged it into bunches with her fists.

Gentle Jonathan seemed possessed with the same storm demon that she was, and his thrusts were savage and unfocused. He was hurting her, but she was loving it. In seconds, she was soaring back to climax. Rotating her hips, she shoved her bottom hard against him, then reached in between her legs to rub her centre. As his belly slapped her buttocks, she felt a flash of inner lightning, and as she climaxed, she stifled her screams in the soft grey cover.

'Lindi!' she heard Jonathan sob, then felt him lunge, then lunge again as he jerked inside her. She was squashed like a star as he shuddered out his pleasure, but in her ecstasy there was no awareness of discomfort.

Floating in stillness and contentment, she felt Jonathan soften and slide out of her... then roll over to lay his body down beside her. Remotely, she perceived the brutal storm was over.

The sky was quiet and the air was dark, and she and Jonathan were alone in their round, white folly. The night was all peace, and half gone, but to her surprise, she still felt that she was being watched. Scrutinised in intense detail, by a pair of eyes that seemed to observe her from within. Brilliant blue eyes that were both hot and icy cold.

ISBN 0352330759

Originally published by Black Lace in 1996 - new reprint April 2007 [US]

Gothic Blue is available from Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com

Buddies Don't Bite - unedited excerpt

2007-02-20T22:11:00.000Z

But then, inside, something intangible tipped over…

Arms like steel bands closed tight around her, and his tongue gently pressed between her lips, demanding entrance. She let him in, loving the strange coolness of the moist and mobile pressure.

Her arms came up, hands roving over his hard back beneath his thin cotton shirt. And the touch of that was cool too, like woven cobwebs slipping and sliding over marble.

Although she’d lived with this man for months, she very, very rarely touched him. She’d quite forgotten the shock of his cold skin when they’d shaken hands to seal their house‑sharing agreement, but now his hurried talk of poor circulation came back into her mind.

But there was nothing wrong with his circulation today, it seemed. Everything about him was active and hungry and full of life. Where before he’d been diffident, he was vibrant and eager now. Where he’d seemed to be holding back, he’d opened wide the gates.

Tugging at each other, they were suddenly on the kitchen floor just as she’d imagined, kissing like maniacs. Zack threw one long lean leg across her, and reacquainted Teresa with that phenomenal bulge about which she was forever fantasising.

This is demented! I’m kissing my landlord and he’s got a hard-on!

Unable to contain herself, Teresa surged against him, rocking herself shamelessly against Zack’s sturdy erection. So much for keeping their distance from and observing ‘friends only’ no go areas! Her outburst seemed to have altered all the parameters. There didn’t seem to be anywhere she couldn’t venture now.

He had the most glorious backside. Tight and hard and round like a brace of ripe apples. And when she grasped it, he growled in his throat in a most astonishing way. Deep and fierce, like the call of a jungle animal, it bounced off the kitchen walls and filled her ears. If she hadn’t had his tongue in her mouth, Teresa would have said, ‘What the hell is going on?’

But their tongues were dancing and she felt like growling too.

Deep in her belly, a famished hunger was gnawing at her. It was a long while since she’d had good sex. A real, hard, long wonderful session in bed… She’d held back with Steve, and had been hoping this weekend would be their romantic first time. But now, she thanked every lucky star in heaven that she hadn’t succumbed…

Now, she knew she’d been waiting and saving herself for Zack, and that the long weeks of abstinence would be worth it.

Oh, I want you! she cried silently to him, massaging his sensational bottom, and squirreling herself around against his cock.

Zack’s answer was to growl again, a low feral sound. His lips crushed hers, his tongue thrusting, thrusting, just like the sex act. Where the kiss had been gentle and controlled at first, it was totally off the rails now. His mouth started to rove, moving roughly, messily, thrillingly over her face, along her jaw, as his hips rocked and jerked in an explicit rhythm that met and matched hers.

It was like being a horny teenager all over again, but magnified to the n’th degree. Every part of her was hot. They were rubbing against each other like crazy animals, and Teresa was the one making moaning noises now, unable to contain herself as Zack’s hands went all over the place. Her breasts. Her thighs. The cleft of her bottom. He was surveying her physical geography, and he was impatient. His fingers wriggled between their bodies, tugging at her skirt and searching for access to her sex.

And all the while he was kissing, licking, tasting… and nibbling.

Nibbling? More than that… as his mouth reached her throat, she suddenly yelped and jerked beneath him.

Dear God, that is so hot! He’s biting my neck!

Continuum... first time with Kevin

2007-01-10T18:40:00.000Z

It had come about almost instinctively, in the way the whole evening had. One minute they were eating, talking, and getting on so comfortably with each other that they might have been friends for years, and the next they were kissing wildly and searching for gaps in each other’s clothes.

Or at least she was searching.

‘Hey, steady on,’ Kevin had said, laughing, as he grasped her wrists and kept her still, ‘what’s the hurry?’

Joanna blushed, aware that she was dishevelled and breathing heavily. She felt mortified at having seemed so keen. She usually played the self-possessed, hard-to-get hand with men, and it usually worked. It was only because she was tired and disorientated that she had let herself rush things.

Frowning, she jerked free of him, then clutched at the gaping neckline of her blouse.

‘Hey,’ he said again, softly this time, cajolingly. Then, like quicksilver, he caught hold of her by the upper arms, and leaned forward to kiss her slowly on the mouth.

For the first few moments, he simply pressed his lips to hers, letting her enjoy the warmth of the gentle, quiescent contact. Joanna had closed her eyes, automatically, but now she opened them and found that his too were open. Blue and placid, they were level, intent, lazily watchful. She tried to pull back, but his hands whipped up from her arms to cradle her head. Her eyes widened, and she tried to struggle, but before she could achieve anything his tongue flicked between her lips like a small hot serpent. He continued to watch her as it probed and lewdly darted.

For a reason she didn’t quite understand, Joanna found it impossible to move. She stood, almost limply, her head still lightly gripped in Kevin’s hands, while his tongue flashed around her mouth and explored its inner membranes. She closed her eyes, but she sensed his were still open.

The kiss went on for several minutes, and throughout it, Joanna remained passive, letting Kevin command the initiative for them both. His hands moved constantly in her soft blonde curls, adjusting the position of her head; gently tilting it, occasionally stroking it. It was as if he were a sculptor creating the kiss as a work of art. Joanna had never been kissed that way before.

When his lips finally left hers, she swayed. Though her eyelids felt weighted, she opened her eyes, just as Kevin released her head, and when she focused, she discovered him stripping off his clothes. Torn between anger and desire, she let desire win, and began unfastening her blouse. She was astounded however, when Kevin - his tie, shoes and socks already flung about him and his fine cotton shirt undone - grasped her hands again, and squeezed them, as if to still her. She was even more surprised that when he let them go, they stayed where they were; clasped against her chest, fingers curled, while he continued.

In a moment or two, he was naked, and almost reluctantly, Joanna was impressed. Wearing clothes, Kevin was an appealing man, for all his unusual, pointed features; but without clothes he was something else entirely.

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Continuum is available now in the UK and from 6th Feb '07 in the US

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

Excerpt from THIS VERY BOUTIQUE

2006-11-08T12:51:00.000Z

‘Ah yes, but is that all it’s supposed to do?’ His gleaming eyes narrow all of a sudden, ‘As I pointed out, there weren’t any instructions in the bag with it, and it’s not immediately obvious how one is supposed to use it.’

That’s true. Items like the Spinetingler aren’t generally supplied with an operating manual. But then again, any red-blooded woman – or man – should know almost by instinct what to do with it. I get the feeling that Sir is just being deliberately obtuse. You get characters like this in the retail trade all the time, and it’s usually best for business to try and play along with them.

The customer is always right and all that stuff, don’t you know?

‘Perhaps a brief demonstration would help?’ he suggests, anticipating me. For a moment he purses his lips, and seems to find it difficult to meet my eyes. But then his broad face straightens again, and gives me a long, almost imperious look.

‘Of course, if you think so…’

‘Oh, I know so,’ he confirms with great authority, settling his large form more comfortably in the chair and tweaking at his long, unglamorous raincoat again. He seems to be making certain that it fully covers his lap.

‘Well, usually a young lady would tend to use this sort of item at night, in the privacy of her bed, or perhaps in her bath in the case of the waterproof version.’ I twist the bezel again, for effect. ‘But sometimes, of course, an armchair will do just as well.’

‘Do you often use it in an armchair?’ Sir enquires.

Ill Met By Moonlight - unedited extract NC17

2006-11-01T17:57:00.000Z

‘I dreamt about you last night.’

The words were out before she could stop herself, and Robin’s peculiar bi‑coloured eyes snapped open again, instantly flashing their two brilliant hues.

‘Did you know that? I dreamt about you,’ she rushed on, almost panicking. ‘How can I have dreamt about you when I just met you not half an hour ago? It doesn’t make sense!’

Without warning, Robin set his glass aside and slid out of his chair and onto his knees. His cock bounced from side to side as he shuffled across the patchwork rug until he was kneeling in front of her, his great head tilted to one side a little, his gaze questioning and hypnotic.

Compulsively, Lois drank some wine, almost on autopilot, but the second she took the glass from her lips, Robin reached for it, gently prised it from her fingers and set it aside. Still kneeling in front of her, he took her small warm hands in his much larger and curiously cooler ones.

‘The woods and the sea are magical places, Lois, and this cabin is right at the nexus of both their influences…’ He squeezed her fingers very lightly, as if they were crystal and he didn’t want to damage them. ‘It’s hardly surprising that unusual things happen here… What you dreamt last night might have been a part of the future seeping back into the present.’

‘That’s ridiculous!’

But she was shaking. Could she do that? Could she want that? It was all very well to imagine kinky things in fantasies, but for real? That was another story. Especially with a man she barely knew.

‘The world is strange, Lois,’ he murmured cryptically, his thumbs circling her palms in a light, soothing caress that seemed to impact all over her body… especially between her legs. She felt an intense urge to squirm, as if he was touching her there, and the look in his peculiar eyes seemed to say again that he knew exactly what she was feeling.

‘Your dream… was it pleasant?’ With a slow smile, he lowered his head, looking up at her from beneath his sumptuous lashes, and then brought first one, then the other of her hands to his lips for a kiss.

‘I… er… no, not exactly… But it was strange… not something that could really happen.’

The touch of his lips was like cold fire. She was shaking hard now, and she couldn’t tell whether it was fear, confusion, or extreme lust. Or a combination of all three…

‘Are you sure?’

‘I don’t know! I don’t know!’ she almost cried.

He shuffled closer, reached for her, and this time brought her mouth to his in a delicate, gentling kiss.

‘What happened in your dream?’ he enquired, and his breath was like a whisper of perfumed air against her cheek and her ear.

Furious blood flushed her face as she remembered the game, and her body bound and open and vulnerable to him. Hungering for him as it did now…

She tried to turn away from him, but he gently but firmly held her, his mouth against her hair.

‘I can’t! I can’t say…’ His lips were moving, and she suddenly realised he was murmuring softly, describing the fantasy.

‘How do you know these things? How do you know? It’s impossible for you to know what I dreamt…’

‘Hush, my dearest,’ he kissed her jaw, and then her throat, ‘just call it instinct… intuition… My dream, maybe, just as much as yours.’

‘But I’m scared! I don’t know if want to do those things,’ she protested, her heart fluttering in her chest like a wild bird, the strange gull maybe, in her chest, ‘I don’t know if I’d ever really want to do something like that.’

Taking her face between his large, cool hands, he forced her to look at him, straight into the disorientating beauty of his eyes.

‘Then we can do other things, Lois… anything you like. Just say the word.’

‘I d- don’t know what the word is…’

‘Why it’s “yes”, of course, isn’t it?’

And then he kissed the whispered answer right from her lips.

Eyes of Desire

2006-10-11T08:46:00.000+01:00

He lifted his lips from hers and his face was still indistinct above her. Tanned skin, dark, lustrous eyes, the mouth that had kissed hers full and red... And smiling… She could easily tell that he was smiling, although the subtle nuances of the smile were a mystery. There was no way to tell whether he was smug and macho, or sensitive and tender, although the way he began to gently stroke her breast suggested the latter.

Suddenly, she had to know his name.

‘Who are you? What’s your name?’

There was a long pause, and despite the deficiencies of her vision, she sensed a certain withdrawal in his face.

‘Just call me “Guy”,’ he said, something in his voice, some element of command, compelling her not to question him further. The way his lips came down on hers, harder this time, compounded the impression.

Okay, no questions, she thought, turning off all rationality and reason and surrendering to ‘Guy’ and the predications of her senses. His kiss became more demanding, almost ferocious, and she found herself answering in kind, her tongue fighting, duelling, twining with his, as her hands clutched at his shoulders, his back, and his hard, muscular buttocks through the lightish cloth of what she was certain now was a pair of combat trousers. As he moved against her, his massive body both dominant and protective, the solid bulge at his groin brushed her thigh.

Oh God… Oh God… I’m going to have sex with this man and I have absolutely no idea who he is and I don’t even want to ask him… Feeling like a slut, yet not in the slightest ashamed of the fact, she surged against him, twisting beneath him and rubbing herself rudely against his magnificent erection.

Extract from SUITE SEVENTEEN

2006-10-06T21:53:00.000+01:00

Annie has invited Valentino to dinner at her house... and he arrives in a cherry red Ferrari!

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His eyes cruise my body as he straightens up, and my skin prickles as the rays of his extra sensory perception or whatever it is reveal my secrets. His gaze flicks to my breasts and then to my crotch and that slight, quirky smile of his tells me in no uncertain terms that he’s aware of my disobedience.

A sudden, intense weakness sluices through me when he releases my trembling fingers. Why can’t we play the game now? Forget the roast beef and the trifle… the only thing I’ve got an appetite for is him. And he knows it. He knows it as surely as he knows that I’m wearing a bra and a thong despite his orders.

The palms of my hand are moist and sweaty as I fight the compulsion to lift my skirt and reveal my sins.

Right here in full view of the street…

Our glances lock. His elegant head tilts in silent communication, making his hair ripple. I half expect him to confirm that he’s read my mind, and then command me to do exactly what I’ve been imagining.

'Hello… nice to see you. Glad you could come,' I say belatedly, rendered inane and gauche by the power of my feelings. Is cocktail party chit-chat all I’m going to be able to manage? 'I love your car. It’s a Ferrari, isn’t it?’ I sound like a moron, but my brain cells are scrambled.

‘Indeed it is…’ Taking my damp hand again, he leads me back towards the cherry red beauty, and I see a strange look of wistfulness in his eyes. He adores his car, that’s clear. But his feelings about it are mixed. His free hand drifts along the bonnet, caressing it so slowly and lovingly that I actually feel jealous.

My sex clenches in a sudden sharp pang of longing, as if calling ‘touch me, touch me’ to those long, exploring fingers.

Then the moment is gone, and he visibly braces up. It’s almost weird to watch, as if someone’s poured steel down his spine. The odd, melancholic expression on his face disappears, only to be replaced by replaced by a look of measured calculation.

‘Won't you come through to the patio?' I gesture back towards the door with an arm that still doesn't quite know how to follow my brain's instructions.

'One moment…’ Valentino smiles now, but it’s still hooded and knowing and alive with sly, macho mirth.

As if he’s thrown down a gauntlet, my spirit rebels, even if my body and my senses are still enthralled. My chin comes up and I want to demand that he just brings it all on. Come on, big boy! Let’s start now and stop shilly-shallying about!

'I have some things for you.' From the Ferrari's passenger seat, he draws out an exquisitely prepared sheaf of roses in shades of white, peach and yellow.

Oh hell!

The ground almost seems to shift under me, as if kicked aside by beauty of the flowers and the greater beauty of the gesture. The very essence of romance stings me on the raw and my eyes start to prickle. Ever so gently, Valentino puts the roses into my hands, then reaches out gently to stroke my cheeks. 'Hey, bella Anna…' His thumb curves and caresses my chin, the gesture slow and so sensual that my sudden tristesse is obliterated and every nerve in my body retunes to sex again.

Valentino’s eyes glitter as he registers the metamorphosis.

'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine,' I gasp, even though only parts of me are fine and most of me is a whirling chaos of hormones and emotion. 'These are glorious, Valentino…Truly beautiful. Thank you.' To hide my absurd, girlish flutter, I lower my face to the heads of the roses and find that they smell just as intoxicating as they look.

'My pleasure,' he replies, soft and low, his voice both tender and suggestive. Then he turns away, back towards the car, 'I have the wine too.' He retrieves a couple of bottles of awesomely good Champagne, and quirks his dark eyebrows wickedly at me.

What are we celebrating?

DUET FOR THREE

2006-10-04T21:23:00.000+01:00

A mini excerpt from DUET FOR THREE... another Stoneworld story that appears in WICKED WORDS - SEX AND MUSIC.

Jason meets his ex, Maria, at a party....

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'Do you come here often?'

My heart jerks. It's a voice I recognise, despite the music.

I turn, and it feels like slo-mo. Surely it can't be her? Why would she be here?

But it is her. She's here. And I feel kind of sick inside from a mix of shock jumbled up with guiltiness… and regret.

'Do you come here often?' repeats Maria Lewis, a woman I once dated in London. A lovely girl who I really didn't treat well.

'Maria?'

An oblique smile, not unlike that of the barman, curves her soft pink mouth, and before I can say anything else, she reaches out and places her fingertips over my lips, to shush me. I'm semi-speechless anyway, so it doesn't really matter. But the warm contact of her skin almost makes my heart stop.

Bloody hell, she looks amazing.

I didn't know her for long, but she was always a pretty, and in a far more refined way than a lot of the Z list slappers that I went through.

But now, oh hell, she's just beautiful.Blue eyes brighter. Hair shorter, but blonder and wilder in a sort of sexy shag cut. Her perfect heart-shaped face has an inner glow of mystery, of life, of supreme confidence…

And her body?

Dear God Almighty, her body is just perfection - the stuff of every wet or waking dream I've ever had.

She's become every inch the superstar that I aspired to be and never was.'Let's dance,' she purrs, the tip of her forefinger pressing heavily on my lower lip for a second, dragging it down.

I feel as if I've just been struck by lightning.

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

tiny taster of PUBLIC DOMAIN

2006-10-02T18:27:00.000+01:00

Propelled by his strong arm, the door swings smoothly open, and as he steps back to let me pass, I swear he winks at me. A second later, his face is a picture of innocence.

Oh, but my Cicero is a prime specimen!

My tall, dark companion is the perfect body servant. He has the face of an angel, he keeps himself in supreme condition, and he knows what I want before I know it myself. Hiding a smile, I congratulate myself for having selected him. It helps, of course, when one’s mother is the Matriarch of all the Islands, and one always gets first pick of the annual crop up from the farms.

My heavy figured satin skirts swish around my thighs and bottom as I sweep into the room, and I imagine Cicero, behind me, dreaming of what’s beneath them. He’s as familiar with my nether regions as he is with his own, even if it’s not really his place to lust after them without my permission. His daily duties include washing every part of me, anointing my body with oils and perfumes, and then dressing me from the skin outwards. And as a man, my sex must be ever in his thoughts even if tradition decrees it’s not supposed to be...

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PUBLIC DOMAIN will appear in Black Lace's WICKED WORDS SEX IN PUBLIC anthology. It'll be available in the UK from February '07 and in the US from April '07