Saturday, July 26, 2014

Excerpt ~*~ Summer Loving Boxed Set for $0.99

**All proceeds from the sale of this set are being donated to the family of author Sommer Marsden.  Her husband is  battling cancer and let's just say the insurance company is not being helpful!** 

Limited time only--20 sultry stories boxed together for 99 cents.

Get Ready for Summer Loving!

Summer speaks of balmy days, white-sand beaches, itsy-bitsy bikinis and romantic flings. The 20 sublime stories in this collection celebrate those decadent days and naughty nights with lots of sizzling summertime sex.

Erotic luminaries Donna George Storey, Sophia Valenti, Lucy Felthouse, Emerald, Jodie Griffin, May Deva, Teresa Noelle Roberts, A.M. Hartnett, Primula Bond, Sammi Lou Thorne, Elise Hepner, Tenille Brown, Tamsin Flowers, Kathleen Delaney-Adams, Thomas S. Roche, Cheyenne Blue, Delilah Night, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Justine Elyot, Angell Brooks, and Alison Tyler spin their sultriest stories ever.

Summer might only come once a year. But with this red-hot collection, you’re guaranteed to come all year round!


Excerpt from Justine Elyot’s Night Swimming…

Everyone else is in bed.

You have slipped out of bed and into a floaty silk robe, leaving him asleep, exhausted by the exertions of the night before. You step out on to the balcony and note that the sky has that foreign, endless darkness so rarely seen in the city; only a sliver of moon interrupts it. The warmth of the day lingers in the air, accentuating the heavy scents of jasmine and honeysuckle. You stretch your limbs as you walk across the cool tiles, shaking out the weariness and muscle ache, but there is no escape from the telltale twinges. What would soothe where healing balms have failed?

Your eye travels downward to the moonlit pool. The faint lapping sound of the water entices you down the steps, lures you across the terrace until you are standing at the edge, looking down at the midnight ripples. Yes, this is what will ease your burning muscles.

You shrug off the gown and dip a toe in the shallows. It is not as warm as it would be by day, but the remains of the sun’s ferocity have kept the edge of cold away. You walk slowly down the gentle slope, feeling the water tickle and caress your feet, then your ankles, then your calves, then your thighs and then it is all over and around your naked body to chest height, comfortingly lukewarm.

You swish and swirl around for a minute or two, making waves and splashes, then you tilt backwards and float, relishing your weightlessness and the unusual opportunity to stare upwards without having to squint against the sun. You could not see them before, but now tiny silver puncture marks in the black silk sky glint and twinkle down at you. You drift around the pool like this, closing your eyes and letting the pleasant, heated memories of the last few days play against your eyelids until they start to merge and mutate and make no sense…you are almost asleep…

Something is making waves, threatening to capsize the vessel of your body, and you come to with a start, flapping with agitation and looking for the bottom of the pool with your feet. From behind, an arm grabs you about the waist, and a hand claps down on your mouth before you can squawk protest.

“Out for a little swim in the moonlight, are we?” murmurs a familiar voice into your ear, and your squirms lose their urgency, your screams turn to sighs. He removes his hand from your mouth and you turn your head so that your lips can meet his, kissing hungrily while he runs expert fingers over your slippery body, finally cupping your breasts and half-turning you around in the water, lifting your feet so that you are weightless. Now he and the water conspire to manipulate your body to his behest; he hoists you up so that you straddle his hips and he cradles your back loosely, encouraging you to bend over backwards so that your hair fans out like anemone fronds on the surface of the pool. He leans down over you and his tongue traces a path from the hollow of your throat, lapping at the dewy drops of water beaded on your skin, under the curve of your breasts, over the gentle bumps of your ribcage, lusciously licking around your navel while your legs thrash up wavy crests, disturbing the placidity of the surface.

“Enough of that,” his voice vibrates over your stomach before he rises up to his full height again, flipping you over so quickly that you almost swallow a mouthful of your aqueous surroundings. His hands hold firm on your haunches, thumbs spreading the insides of your thighs while your arms flounder, working to keep your head above water. Tiny wavelets of tepidity tickle at your open sex, then they are joined by a warm, flexible pressure and you half cry out, shuddering in delightful recognition of his tongue. It mixes with the water, lapping and drinking your diluted essence while his hands continue to hold you and open you further. You drown in the sensation, and almost drown for real when the intensity temporarily makes you forget to keep your face out of the water. Your hands splash at the water and your gargle out a blissful orgasm, undulating like a mermaid caught in the overwhelming current of his undivertable intent.

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