It Has Arrived!

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Yes, ladies and gentlemen it has arrived! LV Lewis, the incomparable author of  Fifty Shades of Jungle Fever and its sequel, Exit Strategy, presents the last installment of the scintillating  Den of Sin series, Redeeming the Amazon.    Read below for a description and sizzling excerpt:

          The Den of Sin Series
         presents
    REDEEMING THE AMAZON
December 27, 2013
Length: Novella (~23,320 words)
Setting: New Orleans
Subgenre: Erotic contemporary
Heat level: HOT
Warnings: Graphic sex and adult language
CollectionDen of Sin
Buy here: Amazon, B&N, Smashwords(Discount Coupon Code YL37F), ARe,Kobo (Links coming soon)

LV_DOS_fullsizeLeave your inhibitions at the door…and turn the page.

New Orleans’s Hotel Beaudelaire isn’t just a critically acclaimed 5-star establishment. For New Year’s Eve, it becomes a Den of Sin, and its owner extends invitations to a few discriminating guests to help make their sexual fantasies come true.

REDEEMING THE AMAZON SUMMARY

Most come to The Beaudelaire Hotel a select few times a year merely to indulge in sexual fantasy, but the stakes are higher for Karen Freeman and Paul Beaudelaire this New Year’s weekend. Karen is nine years post-op from a double mastectomy, and her vain ex-husband hadn’t agreed with her decision to remove her remaining good breast or to eschew reconstruction. In the end, that decision cost her. She lost her marriage, but she’s certain the move has prolonged her life.

Returning to a normal dating and sex life has been difficult. She hasn’t made love fully unclothed since the demise of her marriage, and her most significant relationship occurred right after her surgery. When she was still recuperating, she had an affair of the heart with a Marine amputee who’d also been her Ph.D. classmate.

Paul Beaudelaire once led a charmed life as a ladies’ man who had his pick of women in the upper echelons of New Orleans society. He’d been satisfied to continue in that vein, until a Marine recruiter wooed him from LSU with tales of valor, courage, and commitment. His career in the corps cut short by the loss of his left leg, Paul returned to New Orleans with the best prosthesis Johns Hopkins orthopedics experts could fit him with. The problem was, he’d left his heart in Baltimore with a beautiful former model, whose crippled marriage was the only deterrent to his waning honor. Will this fantasy weekend at his Uncle Henri’s hotel give him a second chance with his contemporary Amazon, or will her fear of rejection be a barrier to their reconnection?

THE SERIES IN ITS ENTIRETY:

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On December 6 the authors of the Den of Sin Series invited you to indulge in a new erotica or erotic romance novella each Friday until December 27. Each had a different couple (or trio) and different kinks:

December 6: Forbidden Rendezvous by Mel Blue

Seraphina orchestrates fantasies, but this year she’ll create one of her own. It’s against the rules for an employee to participate in the weekend-long sex-capade but she’s willing to risk it for Luke. The man’s a mystery, but in a sea of CEOs and Fortune 500 billionaires, he stands out. His past and connection to her boss is clouded in intrigue, but she knows what he wants, and she plans to star in one of his voyeuristic fantasies.

December 13: Ménage à Troys by Holley Trent

At the Den of Sin anything goes, so instead of two newlyweds letting down their guards to finally consummate their marriage of convenience, three people desperate to be touched forge bonds. That’s all well and good for the weekend, but what will shake out of their tentative ménage à trois when it’s time to go home?

December 20: Wicked Surrender by Ambrielle Kirk

Kris is tired of spending her nights playing with hard plastic and silicone. She wants a real man for a night, and expects to find him at the Den of Sin. She doesn’t expect to meet one of the World’s Most Eligible Bachelors there, and this isn’t the first time she’s met him. Unfortunately, Travis Brenden doesn’t seem to remember her.

December 27: Redeeming the Amazon by L. V. Lewis

Karen hasn’t made love fully unclothed since her double mastectomy and the subsequent demise of her marriage. Her most significant relationship occurred right after her surgery when she connected with a former Marine, amputee classmate. Paul once left his heart in Baltimore with a beautiful former model, whose crumbling marriage was the only deterrent to his waning honor. A fantasy weekend at his uncle’s hotel may give him a second chance with his contemporary Amazon…if her fear of rejection doesn’t become a barrier to their reconnection.

To learn more about this shared world series and its authors, and to access purchasing information, please visit DenofSinSeries.com.

EXCERPT – REDEEMING THE AMAZON:

“What just happened? We were in a good place until all of a sudden, we weren’t.”

She shrugged like a gawky, inexperienced teen, afraid to go all the way with the boy she liked she wasn’t sure would still like her in the morning. He hated that the cancer had done this to her. Robbed her of her confidence.

“Karen, I would never hurt you.”

She smiled. He’d been going for intimacy, for sincerity, but apparently his heartfelt declaration struck her as funny.

“You know I won’t take advantage if you let me in,” he said, giving her a glimpse of his own vulnerability. This was as much about him as it was about her. Then he realized this statement was innuendo-laden as well, when her grin broadened.

“Exactly how do I know this?”

He would not let a moment of levity steal the inroads he was determined to make. “Because you know I’ve been where you are, even though on the surface it looks like I’ve dealt with and overcome all my issues with body image. Will you take a chance and go places with me intimately that you haven’t with anyone else?” He hoped like hell she could trust him. She hadn’t backed out when she found out he was her partner for the weekend, so there had to be something to her acceptance.

“How cunning. You knew the one thing—the only thing—that makes living inside our imperfections so difficult. I’m not surprised you get it.”

She smiled that same smile he saw in his fantasies. The one that says more than her words. She squinted, and laugh lines seemed to appear from nowhere. There was no guile or arrogance in it, just the tentative smile of a woman who was once very self-assured and was again trying it on for size.

It was that smile Paul had responded to first, before he’d discovered other interesting things as he’d continued to watch her. The way she walked with such grace, one might believe she was floating. The way she saw through bullshit as if she had a built in meter for it. Even his. The intensity with which she viewed life was even atypical, a study in contradictions for one who’d stared death in the face and made it back down.

“If we do this your way, I’ll have one rule.”

Desperation made him reckless. “Anything.”

“The lights must be off.”

“Except that…” He stood and paced. “Karen, we’re supposed to leave our inhibitions at the door.”

“Okay. Suppose I were to blindfold you instead?”

He stopped in his tracks and smiled involuntarily. “That sounds promising, but if we get any kinkier than that, we might have to change floors.”

“Let’s just get the mechanics down now, shall we?”

“That doesn’t sound particularly sexy.”

Her expression challenged him. “I’m going to make you rue that statement before this weekend is over.”

“Game on,” he said.

 

 

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It’s Here!

The time has come!   The release of the highly anticipated sequel to Fifty Shades of Jungle Fever has finally arrived!  Please join with  us as we celebrate the incomparable work of LV Lewis as she explores the tribulations of life and love with a bit of a kinky twist.   So, delve right in and enjoy what is promised to be one  hell of a ride!

Exit strategy

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/370579

Cover Design by:

CoverMeCreative.com by © krischarbonneau@yahoo.com

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Photo Credits:

Cover Image – Passion © Chris Schmidt – Track5 Photography via iStockPhoto.com

Vintage Carriage Return © Editorial via Dreamstime.com

BUY LINKS for Exit Strategy:

Author L.V. Lewis revisits the world of Keisha Beale and Tristan White from her Fifty Shades of Jungle Fever in Exit Strategy!

Ex·it Strat·e·gy (noun) 1. A preplanned means of extricating oneself from a situation that is likely to become difficult or unpleasant. 2. The method by which a venture capitalist or business owner intends to get out of an investment that he or she has made in the past.

Will Keisha and Tristan exercise their elaborate EXIT STRATEGY and end their unorthodox arrangement?

Assailed by demons she thought she had conquered, Keisha Beale has uttered the words to end her tumultuous relationship with Tristan White. Separated, they grapple for a time with their personal demons. However, when their lives apart become unbearable, a credible threat brings them back together prematurely.

As they seek to discover who is responsible for the threats, several seemingly unrelated incidents throw them into a tailspin. Will Keisha’s youthful indiscretions or Tristan’s un-reconciled feelings for a former sub derail their tenuous arrangement?

In the meantime, trouble in Nathan and Jada’s paradise send dramatic ripples that hint of future difficulties in the idyllic pairing.

Nothing Ventured…

Tristan uses his vast wealth and connections to correct a gross miscarriage of justice, while Keisha makes herself utterly vulnerable to Tristan and fears he has chosen to exercise his own exit strategy.

…Nothing Gained!

Will this be the end of the indecent arrangement that became a fairy tale? Or will Keisha and Tristan reveal the trauma from their pasts so they may heal and completely embrace their relationship?

Sensual, suspenseful, and still infused with the riotous levity of Triple-G and Fairy Hoochie Mama, the Ghetto Girl Romance Quadrilogy departs from full parody with a distinctive take on love, loyalty, sacrifice, redemption, and acceptance.

whip

L. V. Lewis doesn’t have the financial means of Tristan White, but she wouldn’t want readers to go away from this new release empty handed, so she’s giving all readers the chance to win some fabulous prizes.

This time there are too many to list, but you can read the list and “Like” or “Follow” the Authors participating in my Release Day to enter the attached rafflecopter giveaway!

The giveaway will run from now until November 28, so like and follow my friends, then tweet about the giveaway daily to increase your odds of winning!

The giveaway will run from October 29th – November 28th.

During the week of October 29th – November 5th, Fifty Shades of Jungle Fever will be on sale for $.99!

DISCLAIMER:  If for some reason the book doesn’t load on all the platforms by the release date, this will be due to circumstances beyond my control. I apologize in advance for any snafus that might occur.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

L. V. Lewis has one foot in South Georgia and the other in North Florida. She’s been blessed with a husband who’s put up with her for a lot of years and has given birth to four children, two of whom she has raised to adulthood and one to near adulthood. She delights in her almost empty nest status so much that she writes the kinkiest novels she can conjure up.

L. V. Lewis’s Exhaustive List of Contact Info:

 Email: lv.lewis148@gmail.com

 GoodReadsTwitterFacebookThe Block, & Pinterest

 giveaway

L. V. Lewis’s Buy Links for Fifty Shades of Jungle Fever:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/fifty-shades-of-jungle-fever-l-v-lewis/1113713451?ean=2940016251004

http://www.amazon.com/Shades-Jungle-Romance-Quadrilogy-ebook/dp/B009ZL7DJQ

http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/fifty-shades-of-jungle-fever

http://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=Fifty+Shades+of+Jungle+Fever&adult=on

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/fifty-shades-of-jungle-fever/id675824660?mt=11

https://ebookstore.sony.com/ebook/l-v-lewis/fifty-shades-of-jungle-fever/_/R-400000000000000964102

Failure

“I’ve failed over and over  and that is why I succeed”- Michael Jordan

broken-pen

Failure.

We’ve all faced it before at some point in our lives; some have been ruled by it while others have merely trampled over it in their quest to achieve more. Failure is funny that way. It could inspire or discourage, infuse with tenacity or settle with the weight of defeat. Yes, failure is powerful- just as much as fear. In fact, failure and fear are one in the same; both can devour potential if only given an inch. One hand feeds the other with those two; failing because of fear is just as potent as the fear of failure. Both could stop even the mightiest in their tracks- if they allowed it to fester.

And that’s the gist of it my friends.

We must never allow failure to be the final option. If anything, failure should be the catalyst for trying again. This world is filled with people who would not- did not- allow failure to define them. In their humble (or even not so humble) beginnings, they weren’t instant innovators, clever wordsmiths, or even the most profound intellects. They had their moments of doubt, their false starts.

They had their failures.

They failed just like we do.failure

They failed just like I do.

It’s a part of the human experience- we try, we fail, and we try again. It’s a vicious cycle, true, but the potential for greatness, for absolute success resides in not just the hard work alone. It is the in the temerity of the individual to face failure head on, get acquainted, and then leave it in the dust as we try again. I’ve done it, several times.  With each work in progress, sentence written, blank page, chapters written, I’ve faced fear and failure. It’s painful, irritating, and yet profoundly invigorating. Each failure sews the seeds of  determination, inspiration (and in some instances) calamity. Yet, I do not stop, I do not quit. I simply cannot- not if I want to achieve my goals.

That is the name of the game in life- if we fall, we must get up again. If we fail, it is solely because we refuse to get up and dust ourselves off.  It is then that we have truly realized the scope of failure.

The question is do you have the courage to try…again?

 

What’s On My Desk…

Greetings!  Once again I come with an offering. Today I’m posting the second chapter of my WIP  The Lonely Girl Chronicles.  The first chapter detailed the errant thoughts of  a lonely analyst and her fateful meeting with a very insightful – if not dashing IT tech.  If you thought the first chapter was fire, the second chapter will be an inferno. Buckle your seat belts , ladies and gents.

It’s on .

Enjoy!

 

Warning:  Some scene contain explicit sex and strong language. Please be advised.

 

Chapter Two : Fantasy Meets Reality

love at work

Andy stared at the numbers as they descended, a small smile inching over his lips as he thought about the delectable Ms. Margaret Lewiston and adjusted his dick quickly, hoping to alleviate the tightness in his trousers. He’d dreamt of this day for almost a year ago when she transferred into acquisitions.  There was something about Margaret that drew him to her; she wasn’t the conventional beauty and it seemed like everyone wanted to remind her of that.  He’d taken to watching her covertly, observing how she would go out of her way to help others and how she would work until her bones were weary only for others to gain reward off of her blood, sweat, and tears. She could’ve stood up for herself, made it known that she was the reason that the acquisitions department was experiencing a period of steady growth but instead, she chose to remain in the shadows. She believed she was invisible when the fact was that she was very present, especially to him.  Just because she wasn’t drop dead gorgeous on the outside didn’t mean that there wasn’t a heart of gold that lay just beneath the surface. She didn’t see her own potential, especially when she stacked herself against the beautiful but plastic faces of the women around her.

“Americans and their preoccupation with appearance”, Andrew scoffed gently, still staring at the numbers, truly confounded. How was it that the beautiful but useless people were always lauded while the truly beautiful souls of the world were neglected?  True beauty lay beneath the surface and it was that soul capturing beauty he saw when he saw Margaret.

Andrew exhaled and shifted his weight as he hauled his bag over his shoulder more, remembering the day he’d been hired. Despite his glowing accommodations and obvious skills, he knew he’d been hired because of his so called good looks. His supervisor, who was a woman herself, had made it known that his stellar work was merely a bonus and he’d come to find that appearances were greatly rewarded within the company. Thinking about the way he’d taken advantage of that fact he exhaled harshly and shook his head, as if determined to shake away the memories of all of the sinfully beautiful women in the company he’d had since beginning his tenure. At first, it was all fun and games but then it began to wear thin. None of the beautiful women he’d been with had the heart, the ability to reach him where it mattered most. He’d been searching for something more substantial, something worth his time and effort and had all but given up on  finding it…that is until he’d found Margaret.

A brief memory surface of the one time he’d been witness to Margaret’s hidden spitfire and he chuckled just as the elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal the dimly lit bullpen. Stepping off of the elevator, Andrew cast his gaze around the office and spied one lit cubicle and started for it, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest. He was nervous; each step was taking him closer to the woman of his dreams and she was completely oblivious to the position she held in his heart. Andrew pulled his glasses out and slipped them on his face, noticing the slight tremor of his hands. Frowning, he stopped walking and took a deep, cleansing breath. He could do this; he could face the woman who provoked both his heart and his body without fucking it up.

“Slow and steady, Andy,” he reminded himself as he started walking again. Rounding the corner, he stopped short of the sight of a pair of luscious brown legs extending out of the cubicle, taking notice of how delicate the ankles were.  Immediately, Andrew’s arousal roared to life, the blood rushing directly to his dick. He could imagine those delicate ankles clad in the most sinful heels he’d seen in his life, crossed behind him as he slammed his hips into ….

A sudden movement pulled him out of his lewd thoughts and he cleared his throat loudly to alert Margaret to his presence. Stepping closer to her cubicle, he watched as she slowly appeared, taken at first by her wide brown eyes. Even in such a dim light, he could see how they sparkled with equal parts of innocence and temptation and he swallowed hard. A quick perusal of her body yielded another thrush of arousal directly to his groin and he glanced away from her and closed his eyes, the image of her short but voluptuous body burning on his psyche.  For the life of him he would never know why men preferred the tall, leggy, blondes of the world when they could feast upon the wealth of   beauty that had been presented to him. She wore a two piece black suit and pink camisole that fit her curves perfectly, accentuating her big, round breasts, ample hips, and phenomenal ass. Her long straight hair fell around her round but beautiful face like a curtain. He’d felt  a rush of both  reverence and lust as he brought his eyes back to hers and his lips eased into a smile as he extended his hand, relieved that  her momentary pained expression he’d caught was now nonexistent.

“Andrew Yukov, at your service, Margaret,” Andrew said, unaware that his tone had softened. He stared at Margaret openly as her soft, warm hand slipped into his, exacerbating his arousal. Already he could feel the strain of his dick against his trousers and only hoped that Margaret hadn’t seen, sure that she would recoil from the evidence of lustful intentions. Grateful that she’d held his gaze, he smiled more, “I hope that I can be of good service to you.”

“Yes, I was hoping that you could service me,” Margaret responded as if in a daze. Andrew grinned when she seemed to snap out of it and shook her head woefully, “I didn’t say that aloud, did I? I meant, service my computer.  I need to recover those files, Andy.”

Reluctantly, Andrew let her hand go and nodded, “It is okay, Margaret. The abundance of the heart flows from the lips. I understand fully.” A moment of comfortable silence settled between them before Andrew sighed and gestured to her cubicle, “Alright, well show me the way, Margaret.”

Margaret stepped aside and gestured to her computer, “The bastard was working well all day and tonight it decides to spaz out.”

Andrew chuckled as he moved into her cubicle and placed his bag down,   kneeling to unzip it and bringing out his tools. His heart fluttered as he perceived her heat behind him and he turned his body toward her, his eyes landing on her beautiful legs. Swallowing hard, he cleared his throat and looked up at her, barely containing a groan as she stared at him, “I…um…I should have you hemmed up in a minute. It’s just going to take a few screws here or there to tighten you up and then you should be, as they say, raring to go.”

***

Margaret flushed and licked her surprisingly parched lips as she stared at Andrew her mind running on overdrive. She hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t expected to see a tall, devastatingly handsome man with dark, shoulder length hair and the most amazing looking lips she’d ever seen. She wasn’t expecting a man who looked at her as if he wanted to worship her and devour her simultaneously- she wasn’t expecting a man whose mere glance instantly made her pussy quiver with need.  In short, she wasn’t expecting sex on legs but that is exactly what she got.

When he came closer, she’d been instantly entranced by his dark eyes that were hidden by the wireframe glasses that seemed so out of place on his freakishly handsome face. As she stared at him, she thought, He’s not foolin’ anyone with those glasses. His fucking ass is hot… It wasn’t until she noticed how he openly stared at her body that she’d become aware of the growing bulge in his trousers. When he’d turned toward her computer and knelt to empty his bag, she fought to suppress a groan at the sight of his tight ass.

“Goddamn,” she whispered as she crossed her legs at her ankles. She rubbed her thighs together, hoping to provide some sort of friction to ease the growing need between her legs. Margaret bit her lip as her imagination began to work over time, driving her arousal through the roof. She needed relief in the worst way. Shifting once more, she saw him turn and face her, his eyes starting at her legs and then traveled up until their gazes met. He’d said something about hemming her up and giving her a couple of screws and from that moment on, her thoughts became mush.

I’m completely fucked. She thought as Andrew stood to his full height. She followed him with her eyes, tilting her head slightly as she held her breath. He was staring at her like a lion on the prowl and as he stepped closer, she exhaled slowly, her heart tap dancing against her chest. His approach pushed her against the wall and he caged her in with his arms, placing one at either side of her head.

As they stared at each other, Margaret fully believed that she would snap out of it and she would return to the land of reality to see him working feverishly to recover the computer. Instead, she blinked and found his sinful lips hovering just over hers, his darkened, hungry gaze boring into hers. She licked her lips again, nearly coming out of her skin when his hand traveled up her right side, caressing her right thigh. Her saving grace was the fact that the skirt hindered his fingers from making contact but that was quickly resolved when he brought his hand to cup her neck, his touch provoking a burst of light and sensation to course through her body. If she didn’t feel like she was about to have a coronary, she would’ve exploited the moment and take what he was offering.

“I can no longer withstand being in your presence and not touching you, Margaret,” Andrew whispered darkly. He dipped his head lower placing his lips just mere inches from hers as he continued, “I watch you, day in and out. I see you Margaret. You’re…intoxicating.” Andrew exhaled softly, brushing his lips against hers, “Right now, I can’t decide whether I want to fuck you or make love to you.”

Seconds, mere seconds hung between them as Margaret stared back at the intensity in Andrew’s eyes, disbelieving that this was actually happening. For once, her fantasies were being wrought into her reality and she was standing center stage. Despite the fact that this man was a complete stranger to her, she felt compelled to open herself up to him, to give him everything that his dark and dangerous eyes were demanding of her. She felt trapped within his caged heat, caught in the headlights of some potent passion but she wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t even concerned. What she’d become was more aware of his presence, how his cologne drifted between them,  how the heat of his breath against her lips  enticed the wanton slut that she knew resided within her many layers practically pleaded to come out and play. If he was a serial killer and this was her last night on Earth, she was going to make it one hell of a night.

A devious smile curled at the corners of her lips as she wove her arm around his neck, pulling his deceitfully hard body against hers. A groan escaped as their lips barely touched, the heat of the moment now building into an inferno. She knew exactly what she wanted, what she’d always known she wanted. And now with the opportunity presenting itself, she wasn’t about to let it slip through her very capable fingers.

With her free hand, she placed it on his chest and felt the rumble of his strong heart beating violently as if it were on steroids. He was pure, unadulterated passion personified and Margaret would be stupid to let this go. So she did what any other hot blooded modern woman would do.

She cupped his sizeable erection and squeezed.

***

The floodgates burst open and Andrew was on her like a predator capturing his bounty. He thrust her back against the wall of her cubicle and lifted her legs to encircle them around his waist, pushing the smart skirt all the way up to her waist. His lips captured her in a bruising kiss and he thrust his tongue in her mouth as she quickly acquiesced, her own tongue challenging his for dominance.

As his fingers danced along the expanse of the soft skin of her thighs, he forced them apart more, tracing his fingers against the lace of her panties. Wasting no time, he pulled the soaking wet fabric away from her pussy and traced the slit of her flower, his finger already collecting her silky essence. He suddenly grew ravenous for her, his mouth watering at the thought of sampling the honey that she was so willingly providing for him. In one smooth move, he lifted her up higher, cradling her ass in his hands. Annoyed that the pretty laced garment stood between him and complete pleasure, he   quickly ripped it away from her sweet folds and dove in head first, burrowing into what he would later explain was heaven on earth.  Her strangled cry died on her lips as he devoured her pussy, eating as if he’d hadn’t had a meal in months. He licked her from bottom to top and then returned to give her swollen clit some attention, feeling at once, her body tensing up. He didn’t want her to explode yet- the sweetness of her body was just too good to give up so soon. Backing off of her clit, he lapped up her juices as he moved further down, growling as he found the exact place he was looking for. Thrusting his tongue into her quivering body, he tightened his grip on her ass as she began to fuck his face. He would’ve given his left nut to see her passion filled expression when he continued to tongue fuck her but he was content with listening to her cry out in abandon as her heel scraped his shoulders, her pleas for him to keep going fueling his mission. He wasn’t going to let go of her until she submitted to his demanding tongue and even then, he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to let her go. He’d gotten a taste of her and now he was completely addicted.

Margaret’s body trembled relentlessly as she held on to Andrew’s hair, bucking against his face in the hopes that he’d eat her all night. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she adored oral sex; of the few prospects she had with relationships, only one man had given it to her but when that relationship fizzled, so did her source of pleasure. She was like an addict, craving the next hit but every man since then wanted her to do the business but never reciprocated. Damn if she were going out like that so she’d suffered the debilitating loss of a stiff tongue thrust deep in her pussy and mourned the fact that with every failed relationship, her chances of getting a stiffer dick to accompany dwindled quickly.  That’s why she threw caution to the wind with Andy; she was in need, some would say desperate need, and was willing to have a one off to ease the addiction. Her last relationship had been well over three years ago, by this time, she was nearly mad from the cravings, which made falling into this…whatever it was, so easily. She couldn’t say truthfully if she would regret it in the morning but for right now, she was willing to become this man’s whore…

If he would just keep…giving…it …to …me…just …like… “THAT! OH GOD, ANDY! DON’T STOP!” Margaret screeched as her body prepared for the ultimate release. Just as she was about to explode on his face, he pulled away from her  and stared up at her, his lips glistening with the evidence of his travails.  Anger nearly overtook the passion but it was only brief; in one motion, Andrew had set her on her feet and turned her around, grabbing her arms and forcing them against the wall. He held her wrist in one hand, his iron clad grip made for certain that she wouldn’t be moving. She wasn’t about to fight him. If she was correct, he was about to…

HALLIEJUAH! This boy’s packing serious heat, she wanted to scream as he thrust into her from behind. He kicked her legs apart more and settled into an almost brutal rhythm, his free hand caressing the planes of her naked ass as it bounced off of his dick. He slapped one cheek almost passively and she groaned in the wake of the exploding pleasure. Of course, she was rewarded with another slap, this one a bit heavier handed but that didn’t stop her inner slut from cackling with glee. She turned her head slightly and marveled at the man currently fucking the shit out of her pussy and grinned mischievously. He may have one upped her in the beginning but now it was time for her to play.

Thrusting her ass against his pounding dick, Margaret baited Andrew with a sensual tone, intending on provoking him to unleash his full, complete power on her, “Don’t make love to this ass, Andy…Fuck …it…hard.”

Andrew honed in on Margaret’s devious grin and forced himself against her, his lips brushing against her ear. Biting the lobe , he continued to tunnel deep within her body, his voice strong and steady even though he was in the throes of some seriously fucking good passion, “ I’m about to give you what you want.”

Releasing her arms, Andrew gripped her hips and pulled her upright. Never missing a beat, he continued to fuck her as he sat down in her chair, widening his legs.  Opening her up, he slipped a finger    to trace her slit before pushing it through her folds, finding her hardened clit easily. Circling it rapidly, he slammed his hips upward as she crashed down onto his hardened dick, the intense pleasure nearly taking his breath away.  He revealed in the notion that he had all night with her and decided from this point he was going to give her all he had. Aside from her ruined panties, they hadn’t taken off a stitch of clothing but they weren’t through…

Not by a long shot.

 

What’s on my desk…

Because I just love to write and will write whatever comes to mind, I have a plethora of works in progress just simmering on my hard drive. My mind works like a revolving door and sometimes, it contributes to many a story laying dormant for months on end until I finally make my way back to it. My muse is fickle that way- whatever he deems necessary to talk about, he’ll talk about. Such is the case with my ongoing IR WIP, The Lonely Girl Chronicles.    The Lonely Girl Chronicles is a collection of erotic stories revolving around   the plight of four everyday career women looking for the one thing they believe they are lacking to have a rich, fulfilling life: sizzling passion, illicit lust, and life affirming love. The first story focuses on Margaret Lewiston, an up and coming analyst for a major firm, who survives her lonely existence by throwing herself into her work in the hopes that she wouldn’t have to suffer hours of loneliness that awaits her at the end of the day. When she meets Andy Yukov, an IT analyst, the catalyst for change begins.

And so, I present the first chapter of my WIP The Lonely Girl Chronicles.

Enjoy.

Warning:  Some scenes contain explicit sex and strong language. Please be advised.

 

Chapter One: Ruminations and Desirelonely girl

 

Margaret pushed her glasses further up her nose, her brow crinkling as she stared at the screen, attempting to make heads or tails of what she was seeing. This couldn’t be happening to her, not when she was against a deadline- a deadline that would probably make or break her job. Since joining the acquisitions department a year ago, Margaret had worked diligently, often going beyond the call of duty to show her worth but for all of her efforts, there had been no celebratory pats on the backs or glasses overrunning with champagne. No, those were saved for the faces of the department, the drop dead beauties that seemed to pose at their desks instead of actually putting in the work. It was the way of the world for Margaret; she’d always been the type to keep her head down and her shoulder to the grind to finish the job while others got the recognition. Just once, she wanted to break the shell she’d molded for herself, shatter the misconceived notion that she was worthless…

Just once I want someone to notice me, she thought absently as she averted her eyes from the screen, slipping off her glasses. Massaging her eyes, she exhaled and then sat back, taking a look at the now deserted office. As usual, she was the last one to leave, burning the midnight oil in order to meet the demands while her coworkers had left hours ago, no doubt having the life she’d only dreamed about.  It was Friday, for crying out loud, and she was stuck to her keyboard as if the fate of the world depended on one missing comma.

Anger suffused through her  as she stood and stretched,  again taking in the silence and the darkness, annoyed that her life amounted to the same boring ritual. She wanted excitement, she wanted passion, and she wanted to feel the rhythm of life pulsating through her veins.  In her fantasies, she had all she’d ever desired but she could only live in that fantasy land for so long before the harsh reality crashed down around her. She was lonely and judging by where she was at nine o’clock on a Friday night, that status wasn’t about to change.

Defeated, she sat back down and snatched up her glasses, determined to at least finish her work.  When she was done, she could go home and forget about her lonely existence, hopefully catching up on all the shows she’d missed through the week.  Perhaps when she was done with that, she would surf the net, hoping that her online friends were actually online.

“I’m pathetic. Simply pathetic,” she whispered harshly as she scooted her chair closer to her computer. Just as she was about to start working again, her work disappeared and in its place, a black screen appeared with the words that caused chills to run down her spine.

Error, please strike any key to reboot the system…

Margaret struck the enter key and closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them, her work would magically appear.  Holding her breath, she slowly opened her eyes to see the same words once more and hit the enter key again, watching as those words seemed to multiply, spelling her doom.

Error, please strike any key to reboot the system…

Error, please strike any key to reboot the system…

Error, please strike any key to reboot the system…

Error, please strike any key to reboot the system…

“Fuck!” Margaret groaned as she slammed her hands on her desk. If she couldn’t retrieve her work, she was as good as gone. This simply wouldn’t work. Standing, she glanced at the screen once more, feeling the anxiety as it slowly bubbled to the surface. She had to fix this; she had to get this right…but how?

“IT, you idiot,” she chastised herself aloud. Moving quickly for her phone, she sat down and stared at the screen, dialing the number to the IT department. Hopefully, she wasn’t the only one left in the building. She was depending on some lowly tech geek as lonely as her who’d decided to stick it out in the office instead of trudging home to wallow in his loneliness. At that thought, Margaret snickered mirthlessly and ran a hand through her bone straight hair, realizing that was exactly what she was doing.

“IT department, Andrew Yukov speaking, how may I help you?”

Russian… At the sound of the deep accented voice, Margaret sat up straight and pulled her hand out of her hair and fixed it back, preening as if  this hyper masculine voice could see her through the line. Immediately, she imagined how the man attached to the voice would look, the dark intensity in his gaze as he fucked her with his eyes or the demanding presence that made her body quiver with anticipation. Almost instantly, Margaret felt the warm moisture pooling between her legs as she let her imagination run wild, images of this dark, brooding man pushing her against the wall and stripping her of her lace panties.

Yes, that’s right, laced panties. Just because she was lonely didn’t mean that she had to resort to wearing granny panties. She’d taken pride in her assortment of racy lingerie and got a kick out of wearing them because she knew that her outward appearance was only a fraction of who she really was. Underneath all that conservative veneer laid a predatory seductress, lying in wait for her prey.

And right now, she imagined that the sexy voice on the other line was looping her legs through his arms and hiking her against the wall of her cubicle, lining her up.  She could practically feel his dick as it invaded her tight hole, filling her completely. Margaret’s pulse jumped as he began to pump into her with abandon, thrusting her back against the unforgiving wall. She ran her nails down his back, annoyed that she couldn’t mark him but was rewarded with him pounding her pussy as if he simply couldn’t  get enough.

“You like it rough, don’t you?”

She wet her lips decorously as he began to thrust like a piston into her, pushing her to the precipice of   passion. He was relentless in his quest to make her come and he grunted like a beast in heat as he slammed his hips against hers almost violently, ripping a scream from her lips. It seemed as if he took her in this manner for hours, her sex quivering and devouring his dick wantonly. She was made for a good hard screw, her wide hips and strong legs giving him something to work for and when she flexed her sex and swallowed his dick, she grinned as he responded in kind, bellowing in anguished victory as he took her quickly.

Margaret could feel her body shifting as the warmth bloomed from deep within. She looked up into his eyes and smiled, feeling every bit of the sex kitten she believed she was.  As he mastered her body, she leaned forward and kissed him, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth. It seemed only fair; he was fucking the shit out of her , the least she could do was fuck him with her tongue.  Her kiss had its desired effect; she could feel his body constricting around hers. He was ready and he was determined to fall over that edge, bringing her with him…

 “Eh, hello, are you there?”

“Damn,” Margaret panted heavily.  The calm, accented voice had brought her back to her reality and she shook her head and placed her hand on her chest, feeling the erratic beat of her heart under her palm. Shifting in the chair, she moaned slightly as the evidence of her arousal began to pool in her laced panties, making her just as hot as she had been in the throes of her passion filled fantasy. After a moment, she took a deep breath and answered, “Yes, I’m here, Mr. Yukov. I think I need your help.”

“Ah, tell me the problem and I can see if I can help you, ah…”

“Ms. Lewiston , Margaret Lewiston.”

“Alright, Ms. Lewiston, I’m Andrew, please call me Andy.”

I’ll call you a Popsicle if you’d let me suck… Margaret thought lewdly. Again she shifted in her seat, relishing the sensation of her wetness. She bit her lip and forced herself to reign in her lustful passions, attempting to focus on the problem at hand. She had to recover her work if she wanted to have a job to come to on Monday.

Clearing her throat, she spoke, “Alright, Andy. I was wondering if you could help me with a problem I’m having with my computer. I was working on a very important project and the screen just went blank. I followed the prompts and nothing happened.” A long silence followed and Margaret gripped the phone frantically, “Andy…are you there?”

“Ah…yes, I am, ah…here. You say that the screen just went blank?”

Okay, what’s his malfunction? Margaret thought as she arched a brow. Deciding to keep her sharp tongue out of it, she answered, “Yeah, just like that. Is there any way I can recover what I was working on?” More silence. “Andy?”

“Yeah, it, eh…it sounds like the server may have crashed. Just one moment, please…”

Margaret sat back in her seat and crossed her legs, chancing a glance at the small mirror that was hanging on her wall. She studied her  big, round brown eyes hidden by her glasses, her thick, dark eye lashes, and her button nose, seeing hints of both the Native American and African American blood that ran through her veins. Her warm caramel hued skin wasn’t flawless but it wasn’t completely damaged and her plump lips seemed to balance her face perfectly. She wasn’t drop dead gorgeous like the faces, to be sure, but she wasn’t half bad…was she?

“Apparently not enough for anyone to notice,” Margaret whispered dully. Shaking her head, she leaned her elbows on her desk and placed her face in her hand, waiting for Andy to finish whatever the hell he was doing. Glancing at the clock, she exhaled wearily; she was stuck in this relentless cycle.

“Care to tell me why you’re working on a Friday night?”

Andy’s voice came out of nowhere, startling Margaret out of her self- depreciating thoughts. After a second, she realized he was trying to make conversation and decided that even though he was a stranger, there would no harm in acquiescing. “I’m working because this work won’t get done by itself.”

“So, that means that you have to ah…how is it you say, stick around? Are you the only one who works in your department, Ms. Lewiston?”

Margaret felt the anger rise. He was mocking her loneliness and making her feel more pathetic than she already felt.  Who the hell did he think he was? Instead of letting her anger get the best of her, she replied, “What about you, Andy? Why are you working late?”

“Ah, I took someone’s place. He needed the night off.  I usually work in the day time, like most everyone else. You seem to be the only one working late most days.”

How would he know that? “That’s not true,” Margaret lied. She was livid but wasn’t quite ready to give him the business, “I go home.”

“Not according to the logs, Margaret. You’re here early in the morning and late at night. What does your boyfriend or husband has to say about his woman putting in those types of hours?”

“I suppose he’d hate it if there was one,” Margaret responded quietly. The fire that was previously burning in her belly had extinguished at the thought of her lonely existence and she exhaled heavily, rubbing her hand over her face as if she could scrub out the shitty parts of her life.  Ruminating over her life had been a sore spot and because she wanted to remain sane, she tried not to think about it often but Andy had shone a big ass flashlight on her pitiful life. Annoyed, she exhaled heavily and shook her head, “Look, are you going to be able to fix this or should I be looking for another job?”

“No need to look for job, Margaret. I can fix this. Will be just a moment, I will have to come to you…”

Margaret sat up stiffly and looked around at the darkened bull pen, suddenly hesitant about the situation. True, she was alone but she wasn’t willing to lay her life on the line…even if he sounded sexy as hell.

He could be some kind of maniac, preying on the innocent women of the world or maybe, just maybe…

“How long will it take you to get here, Andy?”

“Five minutes tops…”

“Alright, see you then,” Margaret responded as a sinful smirk inched over her lips. So she was contemplating seducing the IT guy, it wasn’t like she was hitting them out of the park. She’d give the dork some play and maybe, just maybe she wouldn’t have to resort to her battery operated boyfriend and her menagerie of indecent fantasies.

Game on.

 

Fear

 

 

 

 

 

 erase fear

Pupils dilated, sweaty palms, erratic heartbeat, and an overwhelming desire to flee. No, I’m not describing the act of falling in love (although it is very similar and equally harrowing). On the contrary, I have just described, in a nutshell, the fear that encapsulates me every time I sit at my computer and open up a new document. The dreaded blank page and blinking cursor that becomes a blaring reminder of what has yet to be said. With each passing second, the ever spindling branches of fear grow, drowning my thoughts, siphoning my courage.  Am I relevant? Do I have something to say? Better yet, will anyone care about what I have to say? Before I know it, hours have passed and not a single word has been written on that blank page. And I have been convicted anew simply because I was afraid to step out on faith, to claim that potential for greatness.

Yes, fear is that damn powerful.

Fear stopped me in my tracks, kept me from expressing, creating, sharing the very fiber of my being. I gave too much power to fear and in the end, it conquered me.

Not for long, however.fear2

I started postulating on what I was really afraid of. I can admit that there was some trepidation with pouring my soul out on that blank page, exposing my deepest secrets, desires, hopes and dreams in such an intimate manner, but if I were to be truthful with myself, that wasn’t the reason. The reason, I finally understood, was that I was afraid to look into myself, to see both the folly and the greatness of my being. I was afraid of what would be released, afraid that if I unlocked that potential, that no one would understand but all would judge.  I was afraid to see me. Fear crippled me in its totality, the doubts grew and you guessed it- that page remained blank. The ability to create depends on a modicum of freedom and yet here I was, enslaving myself to the binds of fear. It had to stop because for me to function like a normal human being, for me to live, I had to create. Naturally, I had to give fear his walking papers.

And that’s exactly what I did.  I faced those fears with the help of the three A’s: Anticipation, Anxiety, and Adrenaline. The moment I faced that blank page again, I experienced the anticipation of the flow of words, felt the anxiety of the power I was about to wield, and lastly, the adrenaline pulsating through my veins as I put it down.

Essentially, I gave fear a very big, very ostentatious one finger salute.

That’s not to say that fear doesn’t rear his ugly head anymore. With any new venture, he’s lurking around the corner, lying in wait, ready to strike. The key is, of course, to meet him face to face. Let him know that he’s welcome to come but it’s very likely that he won’t be staying for long.

Fear is intimidated by action. So the question is not can  you do it but if  you will do it.

I don’t know about you, but I’m about to do it.

 

 

 

The Balancing Act

balancing act

balancing act 2

My world is filled with a multitude of responsibilities. You know the run of the mill activities that seem to take up every second of those twenty four hours that we’re gifted with every day: taking care of loved ones, maintaining a healthy relationship with a significant partner, meeting work deadlines, bills, bills, and more bills (you get my drift).  And just when you think that there isn’t enough to do with your time, you have this desire, this passion to create. This passion doesn’t mind consuming every waking thought, or being possessive with when and how it shows up; it demands to be cultivated, to be nourished.  Balancing those creative demands with the demands that take up the bulk of our lives requires knowledge of how to maintain a concurrent flow. Yes, it is possible for the writer to exist alongside the Mommy, the project manager, the lover, the friend- it merely takes effort and understanding.

For me, balance comes with prioritizing. I’ve worked my schedule long enough to know what is filler and what is important. The writer in me wants to fill up every waking moment but I have to beat it into submission when dealing with other facets of my life. I appease this fiery beast by allowing my thoughts during commutes to veer off into the fantasy land that I’ve created.  Down times during the day are very productive; even if I can’t get to my laptop, I’m jotting down notes, fleshing out the intricacies that usually give me fits when I finally get a chance to sit down and get to work. One of the most beneficial methods (and therapeutic, by the way) is to have a conversation with myself about a story or character development. So, if you see me in the streets one day, talking to myself, know that I haven’t gone insane just yet. All of these are done on “my time” and doesn’t take away from any of the priorities that surround me.

Although I am the only artist in the house, my family understands my madness and as such, they make every possible effort to afford me the time I need once I satisfy my priorities. This means, that most of my writing time is done in the evening when the children are asleep and the phone has stopped ringing. On the weekends, I devote a block of four hours to writing per day- if I choose to burn those four hours on social networking, then it’s my bust but there is hardly a moment where I will supplant socializing with writing. I’ve had to work on turning off Facebook when I’m in writing mode. It’s been difficult but it is manageable.

Balancing life and the need to create takes only one thing: knowledge. Know your schedules, your boundaries, know your priorities, and know yourself. Writing is a life partner that will not go away.  It is  best that I recognize that and incorporate this person, who could potentially be a pain, but still occupies my brain twenty four hours a day, seven days a week into my life. That way, we will both be happy.

…Or we will drive each other insane.