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“My Husband Won’t Have Sex With Me” – Author Interview With Dr. Dawn Michael

One of our very own writers has a new book, and we’re very excited to have an exclusive interview with the author.

Dr. Dawn Michael has an M. A. Degree in Marriage Family Counseling and a PhD in Human Sexuality from The Institute for Advanced Studies in Human Sexuality. She’s a certified member of American College of Sexologists International and works with couples and individuals in private practice, as well as continuing her interest in teaching, writing, lecturing and developing systems in the field of sexuality, psychology, communications and relationships.

Her new book My Husband Won’t Have Sex With Me was inspired by an article she wrote that went viral on the Internet, called Reasons “Why My Husband Won’t Have Sex With Me.”


Women have long been portrayed as difficult partners who deny their spouses sex, yet this cannot be further from the truth. My Husband Won’t Have Sex With Me brings to light the agony of women who are at their wits’ end when their red lips, sexy lingerie, and soft lingering touches no longer work magic on their husbands. From pregnancy and childbirth to sexual dysfunction and pornography abuse, leading clinical sexologist and relationship expert, Dr. Dawn Michael leaves no stones unturned as she lends a voice to all who are trapped in a sexually frustrating relationship and helps you to bring the passion back into your life.

Interview with Dr. Dawn Michael, author of “My Husband Won’t Have Sex With Me”

Sexpert: What are some of the most commons reasons for a man’s loss of sex drive that you’ve come across in your sex therapy practice?

Dr. Dawn Michael: In my practice I have worked with men young and old that have performance anxiety. Of course there are other reasons for loss of sex drive, but this is the number one reason that I see.  Often the story goes like this: At some point he was not able to get or maintain an erection, and the spouse took it personally, made a big deal about it and then each time he was getting ready to have sex he would begin to worry that he could not get it up. This creates a vicious cycle.  What I do is then explain to the couple about the function of the male penis and how anxiety or stress can activate the fight or flight response, which helps both partners to see that it was not a lack of attraction to his wife but that her response was causing him anxiety.  As we work on those issues in the marriage, it usually helps to resolve the problem.

Sexpert: How did that inspire this book?

Dr. Dawn Michael: As a writer I am constantly looking for new topics to write about.  My article “Reasons Why My Husband Does Not Want to Have Sex With Me,” which was featured on Squidoo, went viral six months after it was posted, getting 4,000 views per day, over one million views in a year, and over 2,000 comments.  It was #1 on the site until the day the site closed. What does that tell you about the relevance of this topic? At that point, which was about five years ago, I started to gather the comments, put similar ones together, look at the material, and write my new book.

Sexpert: What is the difference between a man losing sexual interest in his wife versus a wife losing interest in her husband?

Dr. Dawn Michael: A man not wanting to have sex with his wife is still a taboo topic, whereas it is almost expected that a wife will at some point not want to have sex with her husband.  With this stereotype, it makes it so difficult for a woman living in a marriage where her husband does not want to be intimate with her.

Sexpert: How do you think pornography can heal a sexual relationship?

Dr. Dawn Michael: I don’t think pornography can heal a relationship, nor do I think it can destroy a relationship. it is the behaviors surrounding pornography which present a problem for many couples.  In the book I do recommend to women whose husbands watch pornography to not get upset with him, but rather find out what he is “into,” what turns him on and how you may be able to incorporate it into your sex life.  This is a prime opportunity for many women to find out more about what turns their husband on rather than shutting him down or out.

Sexpert: Do you prescribe it in your practice?

Dr. Dawn Michael: If a couple is open to exploring new avenues in their marriage sexually, looking for more erotic entertainment I think pornography can add excitement to the marriage depending on what each person enjoys.

Sexpert: What’s your best advice for a couple with a new baby to maintain their intimacy and sex life?

Dr. Dawn Michael: In the book I talk about making time for each other, having a date night, and taking the time to dress up for that date night.  For a woman it is so important for her to feel like a wife again, as having a baby can be exhausting.  For most men they talk about how they are no longer the center of attention, they miss their wife and they do not know how to express their feelings without feeling jealous or stupid about it.  The reality is if they don’t say anything it come out in other ways that are passive aggressive.  So knowing how to say to say it the right way can make all the difference in the relationship example, “Honey I miss my sexy wife, can I take you out on a date tonight and we can get a baby sitter, I would love to spend some alone time with you.”

Sexpert: What do you mean when you talk about an “expired” marriage?

Dr. Dawn Michael: Sometimes a marriage has expired but we’ve forgotten to turn it over and look for the expiration date, which could have been five years ago! Some couples are at a point where they just don’t know how to end the marriage.  When I do intimacy counseling and I can see that the couple is really not getting anywhere after a few home exercises, I will draw up a chart (which you can find in my book) to find out if they still have any common interests or if they are willing to meet each other half way, or compromise on anything. Sometimes just looking at this simple chart the couple can eventually come to the conclusion to end it themselves. In my own life, ending my marriage was a painful choice, and I didn’t make the decision until exhausting everything I could for years. I finally realized that if one person is not willing to meet you half way or work on the marriage, then being absolutely miserable is not an option for the rest of one’s life.
Dr. Dawn’s new book is available on
My Husband wont have sex with me 2

Excerpt: Erotica for the Slightly Adventurous Man by Mandi James

Excerpt: Erotica for the Slightly Adventurous Man by Mandi James

Roger suffers from Everyman’s problem: how do I come across as a good guy just wanting some female companionship, and not a creep?

Enter Mandi, the answer to that centuries’ old question: good-looking, experimental, non-judgmental. A woman who knows what she wants—but what she doesn’t want right now is a relationship.

Just some quality time with the right man.

This six short-story collection introduces Mandi and Roger, a not-friends-with-benefits couple who see each other on a needs-only basis.


Excerpt (from the short story THE MEETING)

“My name is Mandi and I am addicted to public sex,” I say quietly, brushing my red-blonde hair from my eyes. I’m looking down, trying to appear demure, but already I’m beginning to feel the urge.

grab-cover“Hello Mandi,” the group replies. They look uncomfortable sitting on those dreadful 70s collapsible folding chairs. Weighty grey things scraping the floor as people straggle in with their coffee and tea. Quiet choruses of “excuse me” and “not a problem” intersperse with the din of shifting chairs and padded thunks of bottoms on seats, bags on floor. I’m so bored. I just want to fuck. Is that so much to ask?

I am at a Nympho Anonymous meeting. I am kidding, of course. There’s a more genteel moniker. But here is where I am this evening, looking for you. I don’t know who you are yet, but I will know you when I see you. I confess I’m not quite ready to reach sexual sobriety and am counting on you to be right there with me.

“I’m not exactly an exhibitionist,” I continue having paused while the shuffling died down. The room is now mine.

“I don’t need to be seen. In fact, I prefer not to be seen. I guess that’s the allure for me.” A few heads nod. People stir their coffee. We’re all nymphos here so nothing under the sun is new. I know it’s all in the telling. Presentation is where I shine. My looks don’t hurt either: tall, naturally strawberry blonde, dark green eyes. I am purposely dressed modestly: ankle-length skirt and long-sleeved blouse hide the lack of panties and the peek-a-boo bra. I call it my missionary costume.

At this point, you enter the room; I can see in a moment I am just the person you’re seeking. We don’t need to speak to communicate. We lock eyes but a nanosecond and the sizzle tells me we both feel it. I see a flash of lightning. It’s going to be a good meeting.

About the Author: Mandi James

I write erotica and romance, including: light BDSM, spankings, public sex, and casual encounters.

In my spare time I suffer greatly as an actuary, but manage to find time to take long hot bubble baths with my sexy, nubile girlfriends. We giggle, kiss, paddle each other’s bums and then I write about it.

Alright, I made that part up.

Social Media Links

Twitter | Website

Where to buy this short story collection:

Amazon US | Amazon CA | Amazon UK

High Holiday Porn – FREE Excerpt From Eytan Bayme’s Memoir

We all have embarrassing stories from our youth, awkward moments when we were painfully figuring out who we were and who we were attracted to. With High Holiday Porn, Eytan Bayme’s hilarious new memoir, these moments never stop. It’s out of the frying pan into the fire for this young Orthodox Jewish kid from the Bronx struggling to fit in and get a girlfriend amidst the onslaught of male adolescence. He’s a good boy with his heart in the right place, but other parts of his anatomy have different ideas – and this central conflict creates plenty of laugh-out-loud moments.

Guaranteed to make you cringe while remembering your own self-discovery, you’ll be cheering for Eytan as he navigates the world from age six through his gut-wrenching teens. 

We’re thrilled to offer you a free excerpt below, to whet your appetite for the full monty. Enjoy!

High Holiday Porn Synopsis

High Holiday Porn is the story of an Orthodox boy in the Bronx who discovers masturbation during Passover dinner as a child, gets caught with porn on Yom Kippur, fantasizes about marrying his grade school classmate (if only he could get up the nerve to speak to her), and finally figures out that the way into a girl’s pants is through her heart. But maybe the heart is all that ever mattered anyway.

high holiday porn

Excerpt from High Holiday Porn – Chapter 16

HIGH HOLIDAY PORN Copyright © 2015 by Eytan Bayme & reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Press, LLC.

A few months later, during morning prayers, Jack told me something strange.

“Hannah told me that Tamar told her that she likes you,” “What the shit?” I said.

“I’m just repeating what I heard.”

Jack was in the academically rigorous classes, so I didn’t see him much during the day, but we sat next to each other at prayers and killed time by quoting lines from The Simpsons.

“That’s so stupid,” I said, feigning disgust. “You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not.”

Aside from TV, telling jokes, and perhaps the effects of microwaving household objects, I didn’t want my male friends to think I cared about anything, especially not girls. My intense longing for physical contact, which had led me to hoard the lingerie pages from Caldor catalogs, were known only by me. Even the simple act of liking a girl didn’t fit into the cool persona I was trying to cultivate. I was a loner with a quick wit and a street sensibility, who tucked only the front of my oxford shirts into my pleated pants and slicked back my hair Pat Riley–style before covering it with a yarmulke. Needy women only held me back in my pursuit of being the coolest yeshiva high school student. So I let the subject of Tamar drop and moved onto Homer’s more memorable lines from the previous night’s Simpsons.

Secretly, though, I felt like there was magic in the air. An actual, physical girl was interested in me, a creepy public nose-picker, the former “rocker.” In my head I saw Julie Andrews spinning on the side of a lush green mountain in the Alps. “Wonder of Wonders,” the song that the lowly tailor in Fiddler on the Roof sings when Tevye grants him permission to marry his daughter, played on a loop in my mind.

Was Tamar desirable? Yes, of course. She was a cute girl with longish red hair who wore the same ankle-length black skirts that all the other girls in our grade wore. She was very pretty, but the point was that she liked me.

“What should I do?” I finally asked Jack after I felt as though enough time had passed to bring the matter up again.

“About what?”

“You know,” I said evasively, “that chick. Whatsherface.” “I don’t know? Talk to her, I guess.”

Easier said than done. Tamar belonged to a pool of girls in my class who I thought about often and in compromising situations. I had imagined us as a jungle-dwelling couple swinging together from trees wearing only loincloths, and I had wondered what it would feel like to be an old king suffer- ing from pneumonia with Tamar as a young maidservant warming me with her body heat. So vivid were these fantasies that I felt they might somehow leak out of my mind and into any conversation I attempted to have with her.

We should walk deep into a forest together, I might randomly blurt,

or, I want to die at the same exact moment that you die, could come out of my mouth and Tamar would swiftly erase any interest she originally entertained. Instead, I took a deep breath and tried to talk to her about less-graphic and more administrative, easier-to-navigate topics.

“Can I borrow a pen?” I asked her one afternoon after taking a seat next to her in English class.

“Yes,” she said and handed me an expensive-looking, fine- tipped implement with a window along the shaft displaying the ink inside. “Don’t steal it,” she added with a smile.

“I promise I’ll give it back,” I said soberly. “Thank you.”

I pulled off the cap and marveled at the continuous black lines that the pen left on a piece of loose-leaf paper I had picked up off the floor. I felt honored that Tamar trusted me with such a fine writing utensil and doubted that she would lend it to just any schmo classmate who asked her for one.

As we sat next to each other in silence, I thought about keeping her pen safe. I would give it back to her right after class, maybe even before it ended so she wouldn’t have to feel awkward asking for it. I wanted to make the transaction as easy as possible for her. In fact, since I barely ever took notes in class and spent my time sketching Smurf-like dwarves in- stead, I decided that I would save her ink and not draw any- thing. For the next forty-five minutes I would anticipate giving Tamar her pen back.

As I stared at it laying on my desk, Hannah, Tamar’s friend, turned around from her seat in front of me.

“You guys are so cute!” she whisper-squealed at the two of us.

Immediately, I froze up.

Why would she say that? What is cute about us? What is

“us”? I had barely ever spoken a word to Hannah, but now I wanted to scream at her. What are you trying to do! I’m just here borrowing a pen. I’m not some psycho who sits next to girls to look cute beside them!

“Shut up, Hannah,” Tamar said through her perfectly spaced teeth and plump red lips. She was upset, too, and I wondered why. Does she not think we are cute? Does she not want to be associated with me? Oh God, I thought, that would be even worse than being called cute. Perhaps Jack’s info was all wrong and Tamar didn’t like me at all and was disgusted by being referred to as “guys” with me.

Hannah made her mouth crooked in a look that said, Jesus, relax, before turning back around to face the teacher.

For the rest of the class, I sat silently staring ahead at the back of Hannah’s skinny neck, wondering if by sitting next to Tamar, I had made it too obvious that I was interested in her. Perhaps she had wanted to begin a secret love affair, and by sitting too close, I had come on stronger than she preferred and spoiled the mood.

Tamar and I had reached our end too soon. I imagined myself layered in the latest J. Crew designs near a New En- gland pond on a blustery gray day. I knelt down and touched the damp earth as I thought about the love that could have been. A crow with no capacity to show emotion landed next to me and flitted his wings, and I heaved my breath and com- mitted to attempting to go on with my solitary life.

I took the pen in my hand and held it as though I was going to take notes. If this was the end of Tamar liking me, I wanted to relish in the warmth of what her property meant in my possession. The pen had represented the closest attachment I had formed with a girl and it was a moment that I needed to remember vividly.

When the bell rang, Tamar turned to me. “Eytan?” she said.

“Yes?” I responded, feeling like a dog at an adoption center. Would she forgive the mess I had made, take me home, and make me hers? Or would she leave me here to get euthanized if nobody came around in the next week?

“Do you want to call me?” she asked.

It was like being asked if I wanted a winning lottery ticket. Yes, goddamnit. I do want to call you. Just tell me when. I could leave school early so the phone rings the moment you step inside your house. For fifteen years, girls had been interested in me only in my imagination. Over the years, I had married scores of classmates in my mind. I had fathered countless children with them, charmed each and every one of their parents, and weathered multiple complicated divorces. Sometimes, in bed with the lights out, I would live out two or three love affairs a night. It was a tumultuous and heart-wrenching era for me, and now I would finally be given a chance to live out a real, live relationship. I could barely speak.

“Okay,” I whispered almost inaudibly.

“You don’t have to,” she said, sounding hurt.

“No, no, I do!” I cried. “I just don’t have your phone number.”

Tamar put her hand out toward me and I hesitated a moment before slapping her five.

“The pen,” she said.

“Oh, sorry.” I had been clutching it so hard that it was slimy from my sweat, so I put it under my armpit and wiped it off on my shirt before presenting it to her in an open palm, like a ring on a pillow.

“Ew,” she said softly while clawing it between her thumb and forefinger and dropping it into her open knapsack.

“My bad,” I said.

Tamar took a second pen from her bag and scribbled her

phone number down on a scrap of paper. As I glanced over the magical ten digits, the first phone number a girl had ever given me, I imagined they were a secret pass code to a treasure chest of riches. All I had to do was type them into a phone and I had direct access to a chick who wanted to hear from me.

“I should call you tonight?”

“Whenever,” she said, before exiting the classroom.

High Holiday Porn is available now on Amazon.

Eytan Bayme Biography

Eytan Bayme’s hilariously honest memoir is the true story of how an anxious boy finally stops masturbating in public, gets the girl, grows up, and begrudgingly makes peace with the unfairness of life and love. It’s a heartwarming, fantasy-laden, usually embarrassing, sometimes raunchy and always outrageous look at coming of age. Bayme’s stories of young love, fitting in, and social pressure will resonate with anyone who ever felt awkward growing up.

Born in 1980 in New York City, EYTAN BAYME studied at yeshivas in New York and New Jersey until age eighteen. He spent a year in the West Bank before earning a bachelor’s degree in English from McGill University. His writing has been featured by College Humor, the Wassaic Art Project, and New York University. He currently lives in London. This is his first book.


Free Excerpt: “O Wow – Discovering Your Ultimate Orgasm” By Jenny Block

On the heels of National Orgasm Day this past Saturday, Jenny Block’s new book “O Wow” will be released tomorrow, Tuesday, August 11th, 2015, the follow up to her juicy Lambda award-winning first book Open: Love, Sex, and Life in as Open Marriage.

If you’ve read any of Ms. Block’s work on the Huffington Post, Playboy, AskMen and more, then you know her empowered female voice. Who better to clue us all in about exactly why we should be coming regularly for better health – mentally, emotionally and physically?

This book covers the ‘bread and butter’ clitoral orgasm, but also the A, U & G spots, anal orgasms and multiple orgasms. There’s also a chapter called ‘Mysterious Orgasms’ – you’re going to have to discover that one for yourself. Lucky for all of us, has a sneak preview free excerpt below to whet your appetite for more!

O Wow by Jenny Block

Book Excerpt from “O Wow” by Jenny Block
Chapter One – Decoding Female orgasm

It’s time for a revolution of the orgasmic kind. It’s time for every woman to embark on a search for her ultimate orgasm. It’s going to be the most pleasurable and the most powerful revolution yet. Women who regularly experience ultimate orgasms have the power to change, well, everything. It’s the easiest, most delicious proposition ever. All we have to do is come.

The idea for this revolution came from a painful and entirely unscien-tific experiment: I came and then I didn’t. That is, I had sex and enjoyed orgasms—with a partner and without. And I refrained from having sex and denied myself orgasms—with a partner and with myself. Sounds simple, I know. But it’s bigger than it sounds, because it’s about coming, and yet it isn’t. It’s about denial and satisfaction, and it’s about what happens to our bodies, minds, and spirits when we withhold versus when we give in to release.

Without orgasm, I am tired and in pain. I am lethargic and unmoti-vated. My creativity is as a dried well. I am closed, quick to lose hope and even quicker to temper. With orgasm, well, it’s the opposite all around.

Women are overburdened, overstressed, overworked, and underpaid.

I wish we could turn all of that around in one day. Equal pay. Equal protection. Equal everything all around.

But I’m a realist, and I know that isn’t going to happen overnight. Gloria Steinem, Audre Lorde, Adrienne Rich, Camille Paglia, and so many others have been fighting the good fight and writing the right words for generations, and although we have come miraculously far, we are still woefully behind.

I have discovered a crack in the wall, though. I have uncovered one space where our inequality is evident and from which we can derive great power—female orgasm. It is both concrete and metaphorical. If we owned it and harnessed it and made it our own, we could almost certainly turn things around overnight.

Orgasm is the base of all female power. Detach from it and we literally repress ourselves, our power, and our ability to rise. Connect to it and we are a force to be reckoned with, the likes of which no one has ever seen.

To do that, we first must ask: Why has female orgasm been relegated to the shadows for so long?

1. It empowers women.

It’s a sad fact of life: Things that empower women often get quashed and squashed and stamped on and out. Voting. Revealing bathing suits. Abortion. Birth control. Need I go on? If women are in control of their orgasms, they don’t need men. They can still want them. But they don’t need them to “make” them come. Being in control of your own orgasm is liberation to the nth degree.

2. It involves admitting that the female body is equal to—or better than—a man’s.

If female orgasm is as important as male orgasm, then the female body is as good as the male body, which means—gasp—women themselves are just as important. Because women don’t generally orgasm from the act that causes procreation, women’s pleasure has taken a backseat to men’s and women, all too often, have taken a backseat to men. It’s time for us to be in the driver’s seat.

3. Men don’t understand it.

No matter how much you study or read or experiment in the field, if you can’t have a female orgasm, you can never truly understand female orgasm. You can learn the mechanics. You can hear the explanations. But only a woman can tell you how female orgasm feels—and even then, she can only tell you how it feels for her.

4. It’s not easy or instant or simple.

Female orgasm is not quick, and male orgasm often is. Female orgasm is not simple, and male orgasm often is. We live in a male-centric world. Ground zero is always the male experience. That is the problem when it comes to female orgasm: It’s judged against male orgasm, and that simply doesn’t make any sense. When it comes to female orgasm, the only ground zero is the woman having that orgasm.

5. It seems selfish to worry about it.

Women have been made to believe that female orgasm is superfluous. That it’s extra. That it’s a #firstworldproblem. Male orgasm is coddled and revered and covered by health insurance. Female orgasm is ridiculed and pooh-poohed. Women who care about it are selfish whores. Good girls lie back and say, “Thank you. That felt very nice.” And don’t tell their partners what it is that they actually desire.

6. It’s sexual and women aren’t supposed to be sexual—or, if they are, it has to be for men.

Women are sexual. Men are sexual and women are sexual. Women’s sexuality is not founded in or based on male sexuality. It does not exist for men. It exists very happily without men. Women can choose to share their sexuality with men, but they get to choose and define what that means and how that looks. Otherwise, what on earth is the point? If you’re not trying to make a baby, why have intercourse with a man who doesn’t make you come? If you want closeness, cuddle. If you want romance, have a candlelit dinner. If you want intimacy, take a long, hot bubble bath together. But why have intercourse so that he can come and you can lie in bed awake with blue box? That simply makes no sense, and it’s time for this nonsense to stop.

Pre-order your copy today – tomorrow it hits the shelves!

Jenny Block

Jenny Block is a writer and the author of O Wow: Discovering Your Ultimate Orgasm and the Lambda Award-Winning book Open: Love, Sex, and Life in as Open Marriage. Her writing appears in and on,,, Curve Magazine, Dallas Voice, Edge Media Network, and many others. You can find her at

A Couples Guide To Greater Sexual Intimacy By Dr. Dawn Michael – Interview With The Author

Dr. Dawn Michael‘s new book touches on a broad range of sexual issues that couples deal with in and out of the bedroom. We had the chance to interview her about the book and ask for some details on what she witnesses in her sexual therapy practice every day.

Dr. Michael holds a PhD in Human Sexuality from The Institute for Advanced Studies in Human Sexuality and is a certified member of the American College of Sexologists International. In addition to her private practice, she continues her interest in teaching, writing, lecturing and developing systems in the field of sexuality, psychology, communications and relationships.

Couples guide by Dawn Michael

INTERVIEW with Dr. Dawn Michael, author of A Couples Guide To Greater Sexual Intimacy

Q. Why do you think a guide to sexual intimacy is important for couples? 

As I always say to my clients, “Anyone can have sex, but not everyone can have intimate sex, the sex that connects people. It is not about intercourse.” My guide book is not just for couples who are experiencing sexual issues, but also for couples that want to spice up the relationship they’re in, or learn new things about each other’s bodies and fantasies. The bottom line is they should be having fun in the bedroom! I find with the ‘workbook’ format, couples really get results.

When doing the “homes” assignments, for example, we focus on pleasure, erotic fantasies, understanding boundaries and how to feel comfortable trying new things to make the connection deeper and more intimate.  Couples can talk for hours about a problem and never resolve it, yet with a few touch exercises it is amazing how these once big problems can be dealt with in a new way.      

Q. What sorts of issues are couples dealing with, in your experience with your practice? 

There are a number of issues that I deal with every day, and ones that repeat over and over again. Some couples have performance issues where they are not able to function sexually and need help physically and emotionally. I deal with couples with different levels of desire, so they need help figuring out where they can meet halfway and still have a rewarding sex life.  There are couples that have been through childbirth or that want to get pregnant, couples that are bored with sex.  Then there are plenty of cases involving the complexity of changing hormones and issues surrounding aging.  

Q. Can you give us an example of a practical piece of information that couples can take to the bedroom? 

When we do the intimacy exercises, it is about relaxing and letting go, not having to worry about performance.  The couples gets to know each other’s bodies and minds slowly again with out the pressure to have intercourse.   Also, the practice is about each person taking responsibility and taking turns initiating so that it is not always one person initiating or one person rejecting. These types of cycles get ingrained and must be changed.

Q. Is there work that couples do outside of the bedroom as well?

Yes, there are several exercises, like the loving exercise where the couple writes down how they want to be loved and then they exchange answers.  There is also a date night exercise, a kissing exercise, breathing and touching exercises.  Couples find all of these extremely helpful in getting to know each other again in a more intimate way.  This book is also a wonderful guide to new couples who are getting married to get to know each other better before marriage.

A Couples Guide To Greater Sexual Intimacy is available at for purchase.

Sin of Submission (Sin City Series Book 2) by Kellie Kamryn

UFC fighter, Megan Renard, is having a difficult time keeping her eye on the prize when she can’t keep her eyes off of her long-time trainer, Ryan Blake. But changing a relationship that works isn’t a sin she’s prepared to pay penance for.

Dom Ryan desires to experience Megan’s gift of submission, yet he knows taking their relationship to another level could have disastrous effects for her fighting career, not to mention their friendship. One kiss is all it takes to convince him that heaven in her arms is worth the devil’s wrath.

Determined to give her an edge in the ring before her next title fight, Ryan hires Sinclair Reed to train Megan in internal martial arts. When the FBI show up to question Sinclair on the disappearance of Megan’s opponent,  the couple get caught up in a world of underground mob clubs, and Ryan comes face to face with a Domme he’d long tried to forget. Now he fights to protect Megan not only from a lifestyle he chose to leave, but from her desire to please him at all costs.

When it’s a fight for your life, submission is a sin.


The tautness he kept on the leash made it easy for them to weave their way through the crowd as a unit. He led her down a dark hallway lit with overhead spotlights that created the effect of light pooling on the floor. Curtains partitioned off certain rooms, while doors marked others. An occasional slapping sound, loud groan, and a scream or two, reached her ears.

Sin_Of_Submission_500_800Perhaps she’d under-estimated her own inner strength. She’d been to clubs before, seen people having sex in dark corners, but this wasn’t like anything she’d ever imagined.

Ryan stopped at the bottom of a set of stairs, reining her in further. “I’m sorry about that,” he spoke into her ear.

“Do you mind telling me what that was all about, Sir?” She couldn’t keep the irritation out of her voice.

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Remember anything I say or do is for our own good. I saw…” His voice trailed off and she followed his gaze to the top of the stairs. A blonde woman dressed as a Goth queen of the night made an imposing figure. On either side of her, were her slaves—a man and a woman, both naked save for their collars and leashes, crawled on hands and knees.

Ryan cleared his throat, and she straightened her spine, then dropped her chin, eyes trained on the floor. Judging by his reaction, Megan surmised that this must be the infamous Mistress Y, the very person who might have been one of the last people to see Denise before she disappeared.

Ryan stepped to the side, and she followed suit. A shiny pair of four-inch heeled leather boots appeared in her view. Mistress Y tugged on the leashes, and gave a one word command. “Stay.” Her pets heeled by her side.

“Well, well, Sir Blake. Never thought you’d grace the doors of my establishment again. Or at least that’s what you said the last time I saw you.” Mistress Y sniffed.

“Things change.” Ryan’s words were clipped when he spoke. Megan fought a shiver at the icy exchange. Unhelpful to her nerves, the heavy thump of the bass music they’d left behind, reverberated through the floor and into her feet.

“Perhaps your presence isn’t welcome.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Megan saw Ryan fold his arms over his chest. “I figured any patrons with money were welcome.”

“Perhaps you’ll run into…oh, what’s her name?” Mistress Yvonne waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “She’s off performing services for me. I see you’ve found a replacement.”

Ryan bristled, and Megan longed to comfort him. Before further words were exchanged they were interrupted.

“Mistress Yvonne!”

They all turned at the sound of the new voice, which brought about a sharp tug on Megan’s leash. Bowing her head once more, she focused her gaze on the floor at her feet. Unused to being silenced or having to obey in this manner, her cheeks burned with anger both at her own folly and at Ryan’s admonishment.

“There is no need to shout.” At Mistress’s chastisement, the newcomer dropped to his knees in front of her, and placed kisses to the toes of her boots.

From her vantage-point, Megan witnessed Mistress Y procure a crop from an inner pocket of her cloak. Placing the tip under the young man’s chin, she commanded, “You may speak, and understand I won’t whip you here because I think you might have the news I’ve been waiting for.”

The slaved bowed down again. “My apologies, Mistress. Mr. da Silva is here.”

At the mention of the name, Megan’s ears perked up. Ryan stiffened beside her.

Mistress Yvonne slapped the crop into the palm of her hand. “Well, Mr. Blake—this has been an unexpected and short reunion. Pity.” From the tone of her voice, she didn’t appear sad at not having the chance to reminisce. Addressing the kneeling slave, she said, “Take these two to Dungeon Room Two. It should be unoccupied. We will be putting on a little show.”

“Perhaps you will permit me and my sub to watch your show,” Ryan cut in. “If I recall, you’re quite good with a whip.”

Megan’s eyes widened at Ryan’s suggestion. Why on earth would he suggest such a thing? Shouldn’t they be sending everyone on their way so they could follow Mistress Y to her meeting with da Silva?

When a reply wasn’t forthcoming, Ryan continued, indicating Megan. “To teach her a thing or two. All subs need a good lesson now and then. Wouldn’t you agree?”

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About the Author

Award-winning author and audio book narrator Kellie Kamryn is a retired elite gymnast and competitive coach. These days she is captain of her crew wearing many a hat: chauffeur, cook, maid, and arm chair psychologist. Even with her busy life, her sassy side comes out to play, writing stories and poetry that sweep readers away into other worlds.

Winner of the RONE (Reward of Novel Excellence) Award for Best Erotica 2012, Kellie is a workshop presenter, and motivational speaker. The Aquarian Online is where she keeps it real with her column ‘Keeping It Real with Kellie’. There you’ll find articles to assist individuals with facing life’s challenges and moving forward in order to create the story of their lives.

Readers are welcome to join her on Facebook in her Sweet & Sassy Divas and Dudes group or visit her at her website: It’s the first place she mentions contests, articles and much, much more!

Kotori’s Sacrifice by Dakota Trace

About Kotori’s Sacrifice by Dakota Trace

A Dominant who just couldn’t let go…

As an experienced Dom, Seba Havas, specializes in helping traumatized submissives find the release they need. He knows when a firm hand is needed or a gentle touch will work better, but nothing in his nearly fifteen years in the scene prepares him for Akira. Like a whirlwind, she turns his orderly life upside down with her refusal to submit. Still reeling from his failure with her six months later, he turns to 1Night Stand. Madame Eve’s suggestion? A trip to the Carnivore Club, the brand new BDSM themed Las Vegas Strip resort on a date to an elegant masquerade ball with a beautiful submissive.

A submissive who’s willing to sacrifice it all…

As the oldest daughter of the Ito clan, Akira has been responsible and self-controlled her entire life, up to the point it has caused her to lose the dominant she loves. Now she has one chance left to prove to Seba she can be what he needs. In true Vegas fashion, and with a little help from Madame Eve, she’s going to gamble it all on one night of dominance and submission. But will it be enough?

Excerpt from Kotori’s Sacrifice:

Kotori_sSacrificeAkira stared in the mirror. With the white lacy maid’s cap over the magenta-red hair she now sported, and a formfitting black dress with a full-length ivory apron, nothing remained of the Akira Ito she knew. Paired with the thick, opaque glasses perched on her button nose, she looked like she’d walked out of the Phantomhive household. Fiddling with the long apron strings around her waist, she tried to calm her anxious nerves. Lord knew what would happen when she met up with Seba. Like her character, Mey-rin, she would flush beet red at the mere sight of him.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She reached under her skirt to tuck the fake pistols in the holsters she’d strapped to each thigh. “Never in a million years would I have dressed up like the bumbling love interest of the most kick-ass butler in the manga world.” Stepping back, she gave herself a critical eye. Not the sexiest costume imaginable, but with its well-fitted bodice and waist-cinching snowy apron, she might be able to tempt her former Dom while still hiding her identity from Seba.

Straightening her ivory cuffs and fluffing the apron’s bow, she almost jumped when her cell phone buzzed. Half expecting it to be Venus, she flipped open her phone. Instead, the text came from Madame Eve.

Remember child, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Show him you can be what he needs – Madame Eve

She drew a deep breath. Funny, how much the mystical Madame Eve reminded her of Venus.

“Speaking of Venus, I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t send her the picture I promised.” It took less than thirty seconds to snap a selfie and send it her friend. Then she grabbed her invitation and let herself out of her room. As she rode the elevator downstairs, she glanced at her watch. She didn’t want to be late and give Seba a reason to punish her.

Although he’ll probably be the one running behind. Venus swears he’ll be late to his own funeral.

In the lobby, she pushed through a crowd of people dressed up in a variety of outlandish costumes. She saw everything from Nathan Fillion look-alikes to Elfin lords and warrior princesses. Evidently, she’d been wrong to assume a manga conference or even Comic-Con had overtaken the hotel. It looked more like a sci-fi convention. When two storm troopers and Spock walked by, she shook her head.

I’m supposed to find Seba in this mess?

Available from:

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Other Decadent titles by Dakota Trace can be found here:

Website for Dakota Trace

About Decadent Publishing:

Decadent Publishing is an Alaska-based digital to print publishing house specializing in romance and mainstream fiction titles. Founded in 2010, we have published such lines as 1Night Stand, Ubuntu (African Romance), Prepper Romance, Beyond Fairytales, Calendar Men, ROAR, and Black Hills Wolves. We also publish non-fiction, sweet romance and young adult under our Bono Books imprint.


99¢ SALE: Sugar Daddy by Rie Warren!

Shay Greer is pure GRITS—a Girl Raised In The South–but nowhere near a demure  southern belle. She’s looking for a way out of her broken down marriage when she lands an unexpected job offer she really should refuse. Position?Mistress. Fringe Benefits? Of course. Fraternization with sexy CEO Reardon Boone?Required.

Shay signs on, lured by the promise of intimacy missing from her failed marriage. She’s barely survived a hellish year of heartbreak and needs a fresh start. Little does she know a clean break is the last thing she’ll get with the mysterious millionaire.

Reardon sticks to his tried and true rules: no-strings-attached seduction, no messy emotions, absolutely nothing resembling a real relationship. This sassy, sultry woman fits the bill precisely…until she arouses more than his erotic appetite.

A shark in the boardroom and a lady killer in the bedroom, Reardon is as irresistible as he is unattainable. Shay falls hard, but his inability to love could tear them apart. She finds out that beneath Reardon’s seductive mask lies a man as tortured as she is.

Praise for Sugar Daddy


“Steamier than an August night, Sugar Daddy is packed full of quick wit, sizzling hot love scenes and some heart-wrenching moments of pure emotion.” –Romance author, Margaret Ethridge

Strictly Romance Reviews

“Yes, this is a very emotional story, spiked up with sensual scenes and intimacy of the kind that makes your heart thump harder in your chest. The happy and fun moments go hand in hand with trepidation and tears, making for a roller coaster of emotions that assault you with the force of a tsunami.” –Reviewer Thommie


I wanted to slap him, grab him, have at him.


Desperate for space, I plunked back to my chair. I sat on my hands, fists tight beneath my legs, trying not to touch magnificent Mr. Boone. The stormy black clouds of his hair teased me with their wayward curls over his ears. Ears I’d like to tug until his wet mouth skittered against mine, sucking and tasting. The last shreds of the smarts my momma gave me saved me when I was one inch away from turning my lips to his.

I shuttled the chair back with an almighty screech. “I ain’t that hard up.”

Liar. I hadn’t been caressed or kissed or made love to for so long.

“Really? Why haven’t you left yet, Miss Greer?”

A few steps and I’d be clear of him. I didn’t move. “A mistress?”

“Yes.” I examined him, quickly working through his tough businessman terms. “And the return on my investment?”

“You’ll be fully compensated financially, and in kind.” His devastating smile was completely at odds with the company words.

My mouth parted but no words came out. He closed in for the kill, holding his lips a hairsbreadth from mine. “I wouldn’t want you in it just for the money.”

Rat Bastard.

Sexy Rat Bastard Reardon Boone with money coming out of his ears. He probably ejaculated thick streams of liquid gold.

I shot to my feet. “But…but…I’m married!”

“I know.” He played two fingers along the skin of my inner arm.

I jerked away from the brush fire of his touch. “Are you screwin’ with me?”

“Not yet.” Moving behind the barricade of his desk, he reclined in his chair. He weighed one hand. “There’s business.” He held his other hand aloft. “There’s pleasure.” He clapped them together. “I prefer to conduct all my affairs in an orderly manner, on paper at least.”

Being with him in the bedroom would be a whole different matter. I pursed my lips, looked at the door, and shook my head.

“I see. Well then, Miss Greer, you’re free to go.” The fire extinguished from his downcast eyes. He pulled a thumb along the thin chain that hung around his throat and disappeared inside his shirt.

“I know that.” My anger flared, but I didn’t move.

Eyes clashing with mine, his cheeks flushed. He didn’t speak, he didn’t move.

Everything was on the line: my marriage, my future. Something new.

Something borrowed, something blue? My conscience niggled to no avail. I wanted him. Business transaction or not.

Slowly, he approached. His thumb swiped across my mouth, a mere whisper. “I want to be your lover.”

It’d been so long since I’d been touched. I sought his fingertips with my lips.

Pulling away before I made contact, his smile shaded into something more proprietary. “Why are you seeking employment, Shay?”

I’d married at the age of nineteen. Palmer had been my first and only. Now I was thirty-three, and he treated me like an unwelcome stranger barging in on his life. “So I can leave my husband.”


“You are not privy to my personal details, Mr. Boone.”

He rubbed a hand down his face, grunting something unintelligible. His next look was clean of all emotion except for toe-curling carnality.

“It appears we have something in common, Miss Greer. I want a lover with no strings attached, and you need…” His heated stare detoured over every curve of my body, pausing at my lips before settling on my startled eyes. “A sugar daddy.”

Buy on Amazon

About Rie Warren

Rie-Warren-Headshot-For-ANGSTY-150x150Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavor, the Carolina Bad Boys series, is fun, hot, and southern-sexy.

A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling.

Rie’s work has been called “edgy”, “daring”, and “some of the sexiest smut around”. Get in touch with her at

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NEW RELEASE: Playing with the Drummer by Robin Covington

A Guest Post (and Excerpt… and Rafflecopter Giveaway) by Robin Covington

Friends –

I love a good Hollywood romance. The glamour. The sexy vibe of the opulent life. Add in the edgy, exciting world of rock-n-roll and I jump from “yes, please.” to “gimme, gimme” at the speed of Eddie Van Halen’s guitar riff on “Hot for Teacher”.

So writing about a broody, Alpha, reclusive drummer from the world’s most popular rock band and an entertainment journalist hell bent on getting her own TV show . . . was a ton of fun.  Add in the fact that they have a combustible history and you’ve got a story I hope you cannot put down.

Warning: This book contains a sexy, Alpha rock star who just wants to be left alone and the gorgeous, super talented reporter who thinks that is the worst idea ever. When they are thrown together and forced to play nice, the competition begins in the bedroom but ends on the front page. The author is not responsible for spontaneous combustion of the reader.

To celebrate my release, I’m giving away a $50 giftcard and 5 SWAG packs! Enter the rafflecopter for your chance to win!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

–Robin Covington


About Playing with the Drummer

Entertainment journalist Lita Matthews is on the verge of making it big. As in her-own-TV-show big. She just needs amazing inside scoop on the year’s hottest celebrity wedding. Instead, her big break is becoming a big nightmare—all thanks to rock star Rocky Cardano. Who apparently hasn’t gotten over what happened between them four years ago…

Rocky is pretty damn familiar with just how far Lita will go for a “scoop.” Hell, their unbelievably hot hook-up in Mexico years ago was the story of a lifetime. Rocky’s learned his lessons. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep her from the story—even if he has to seduce her to the point of distraction! But Lita has always had a way of getting under his skin. Only this time, he won’t be able to just walk away…


They were still touching, from shoulders down to their thighs, bodies trading warmth in the slight chill of the night next to the lake. She was close enough to kiss, close enough for him to caress, and he bit back a groan when he recalled her curves. She was smooth muscle, silky skin, lush breasts that filled his palms with their delicious heavy weight. Rocky broke eye contact, taking the chicken-shit way out for a moment.

PWTD-500pxHe should move, get up and walk around, but he wasn’t going to do it. The big, horny bastard who made poor decisions was super-powered by tequila shots. That guy was like the Hulk, except that poor schmo in the movie couldn’t fuck without losing control, and when you were green with anger-management issues— that was a big problem. But Lita loved it when he lost control, and he enjoyed it when she took everything he had and begged for more.

The silence between them wasn’t awkward, and it wasn’t empty. The drumbeat of what they were both contemplating was in time with the pounding of their hearts. His cock ached, strained against the fly of his jeans; his mouth salivated with the desire to taste her. Lita’s nipples were tight under the flimsy fabric of her tank top; they rose and fell like she’d been running. He was waiting for some sign that she was on board for them to both make a poor drunken decision.

“I’m really sorry about Mexico…after Mexico,” Lita whispered as she looked up at him again, her breath warm against his mouth. He licked his lips, disappointed that he couldn’t taste her there.

“Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

“Do you believe me?”

Rocky sighed slightly, cataloging the hope in her eyes that maybe they could put this behind them. He reached out a hand, allowing his fingers to trace the arc of her cheek, the side of her neck, dipping into the hollow of her throat and coming to rest on the curve of her breast.

The tension was strung taut between them, but through it all, he realized that he owed her an answer before this went any further.

“I’m just tired of fighting about it.”

She closed her eyes briefly, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of his words or the effect of his gentle stroke against her flesh.

“That’s not a great answer,” Lita said, opening her eyes again.

She studied his face, her eyes processing each assessment she made, every calculation of pros, cons, and the absolutely insane. Rocky expected her to pull away, to end this detour and frolic into madness. He needed her to do what he could not do. He wanted her under him, around him. Wanted her in every way he’d had her those three days in Mexico, wanted to refresh those living memories with warm flesh, wet kisses, and pleasure. But he wouldn’t lie to get it.

“It’s the best I can do,” he whispered.

“I know for a fact that isn’t true.”

“You’re right,” he said as he slid his other arm between them and around her waist. He tugged her upward, and the movement put her eye-to-eye, mouth-to-mouth with him. This was without a doubt the dumbest thing he’d ever done, drunk or sober, but it felt incredible. He’d dreamed about this, woken achy and hard from his subconscious fantasies that involved Lita, a hammock on the beach, and not a stitch of clothing in sight. “You are so goddam beautiful.”

She inhaled quickly, her breath catching before stuttering out. “You’re drunk.”

“Yep. Enough to tell you what I want.”

“And what do you want?” Her eyes told him she knew what his answer would be. Her expression dared him to say it out loud.

He ran a thumb over her lips, dipping in when she opened, a shiver racking him when her tongue swirled around the digit. “I want you.”

Lita shifted, swinging a leg over him until she straddled his waist. On instinct, he moved his hands, cupping her ass and touching the sweet heaven of bare skin where her tiny skirt had shifted up. She leaned over him, mouth within kissing distance, one hand wrapped around his neck and the other around a long hank of his hair.

“You don’t even like me.”

“I’m good at pretending.”

She smiled, her eyes dark, smoky, tinged with mischief and softened by the tequila buzz. “For how long?”

Rocky leaned closer, a gentle brush against her lips catching her laughter and then stopping it altogether with a deep, hot kiss. He sank into her mouth, using his tongue and his lips to coax her first moan of pleasure. He pulled back, making sure she saw how very serious he was.

“For as long as it takes to make you come.”

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About Robin Covington

Covington-350Robin Covington loves to explore the theme of fooling around and falling in love in her bestselling books. When she’s not writing sexy, sizzling romance she’s collecting tasty man candy pics, indulging in a little comic book geek love, and obsessing over Dean Winchester. Don’t send chocolate . . . send eye candy!

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Twitter: @RobinCovington


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Merry “Chris” Mas (Love Play Matchmaking Service 1) by Clare Dargin

PRE-ORDER! AVAILABLE: Wednesday, December 24th

This title is offered at a 10% discount. Offer ends midnight CST, December 31st

Merry “Chris” Mas by Clare Dargin

Ménage Amour: Erotic Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, HEA

Jilly Reimers wants love but can’t find it. Chris Spinell is a veteran of the war in Afghanistan who suffers from PTSD and a haunting feeling that something is missing in his life. Chris Poole is also an Afghanistan war veteran is ready to break out of his shell but is unsure how.

With Christmas just around the corner, they decide not to spend it alone. Believing The Love Play Matchmaking Service to be just what they need for a night of fun and passion, they sign up. But when the guys show up and see that they’ve been set up on a menage, the only one happy about it is Jilly.

Their consultant, called an Eros, assures Jilly that the service has a perfect track record but she’s certain they’ll be the first ones to get their money back. Will they have a very merry Christmas? Or will the three spend yet another one alone?

A Siren Erotic Romance


Chris S. slipped her undies over her round hips. They slid down her baby-like skin, exposing her shaved mound. More blood flowed to his dick, making whimper.

“God,” he said, fighting tears.

cd-lpms-merrychrismasThrough gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes, he forced himself to maintain control. It was getting to be damn near impossible. Everything about her was fucking outstanding. Lips, breasts, skin and pussy. He was ready to fill her pussy with his thick, hard dick.

He slid his finger into the folds of her wet interior. The thin crease surrounded by supple labia oozed moisture from her tight and tiny hole. He slid a finger inside her hole, and her taut muscles quivered at his touch.

“You want it?” he asked.

She moaned “yes” before being silenced by the other Chris’s mouth. He inched her legs apart. Moving in just right, he tasted her. Explosions went off in his brain. She was pure, simple, clean and honeyed. He wanted to mark her as his own. Delving his tongue in and out of her tight hole, he held her still, allowing her juices to saturate his mouth.

Lifting her legs, he opened her wider, curling her upward, burying his face in her mound. His breaths increased as his heart rate grew frantic. His hard dick, standing at full scale attention, threatened to bust a nut if he didn’t stop.

Pulling away, he set her down gently. “Got to go get a condom.”

The other Chris looked up, his eyes equally as dazed as he felt.

She swallowed, seeming breathless. “My bag, by the wall.”

The time for being cool had passed. Quicker than he’d wanted and less suave, he dashed toward it, finally seeing the stash. Grabbing the entire lot, along with a bottle of lubricating gel, he opened the box and pulled out two, handing one to Chris and keeping the other for himself. Setting it aside, he removed his shorts, exposing his aching dick to the room’s cool air. He grimaced as he slid the latex over his shaft. It hurt with a pain that would only be relieved by what Jilly had to offer. He squeezed the gel, which had the scent of strawberries, onto his palm. He fisted his hand and soaked his condom-wrapped rod with the smooth, thick liquid. The mere pressure of his hand gave him some relief, albeit short.

“Me first,” he said, climbing onto the bed.

Calming himself, he lay down beside her and turned her on her side. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close. He spread her legs apart as she tilted her pelvis back. She melded her body to his. There was so much of her he wanted, not only her body, but her soul, mind, and yes, even her heart.

He took a hand and placed himself at her entrance. Slowly he pushed inside. He grunted and made himself hold back, lest he spill at that moment.

She was so tight. No doubt about it. This was going to be a short run. Inch by inch, he slid inside of her, stopping at the root. His balls drew in tight. He shifted her close and moved in and out slowly. Each movement became stronger as his control slipped. He needed the release, the kind that would give his aching balls sweet relief. Back and forth his hips moved inside her. She wriggled and moaned in response. Their mouths met briefly, tongues swirling, causing his stomach and heart to flutter. He increased his thrusts. Finding his target, she keened her delight.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Don’t stop.”

She pushed her ass toward him.

“Baby, I’m going to come.”

“Come, honey. Come.”

He grunted, harder and harder. Sliding his hand down to her hard clit, he rubbed it as his panting increased. Pressure built up behind his eyes, his mind went blank as everything in the world seemed to fall away. He couldn’t stop. Harder and harder he pushed, holding her firm and tight.

With light speed, he cried out, “God!” His hips bucked upward while cum poured out of him.

Slightly dizzy, he held onto her before letting her go. “Are you all right?”

Her kiss eased the butterflies threatening to kill the moment. Sliding out of her, he sighed, relieved. He gazed into her eyes. Instantly he felt the completed connection he’d sensed along. She was the one. And he saw that she felt it too.

* * * *

Jilly recovered her breath as Chris P. gathered her up into his arms. His musky scent was so spicy and inviting. She buried her face in the crook between his shoulder and neck. She was ready.

“On your back,” he said, holding her.

She nodded.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” he said, whispering in her ear.

From her tall Adonis, she was ready to receive all he gave her. Trust welled up within her heart. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

Placing her on back like she weighed nothing but a feather, he positioned himself on top of her. A lock of his blond hair obscured his face. She opened her legs. She felt his solid, round tip prod her hole. Panting, he pushed inside of her, his raw strength causing her pussy to clench. Each muscle spasmed to accommodate his thick and meaty cock. She cried out along with him. He braced himself.


About Clare Dargin

Clare Dargin is an author of Science Fiction and Romance and has been writing stories all of her life before being published in 2007. She’s a great fan of the two genres and loves promoting them.

An educator by profession, she possesses a Bachelor’s Degree in English from a major mid-western university. She presently resides in the Midwest and she hopes to expand her writings to include non-fiction, historical romance, and contemporary novels.