posted in Blog | Tagged: Lincoln Book Festival, Total-E-Bound publishing
Today I am pointing you in the direction of the Hitting the Hotspot Blog. I tell you all about the fun and frolicks I had in Lincoln with Elizabeth Coldwell, Serena Yates and Total-E-Bound’s Claire, Nicki, Heidi and Emmy! It involved Thai food, Reindeers, Bathbombs, Thumbs and these yummy cakes!
It will explain why every time I hear the words ‘thumbs’ and ‘spreadsheets’ I crack up laughing. You will also find out why it is always Christmas in Lincoln! So what are you waiting for? Pop on over and check out my Blog right now!
Silve Flash -Antique Seduction 5.
posted in Blog | Tagged: Antique Seduction, BBW, curvy, Freebie, Rubenesque, Silver Flash
It’s Silver Flash day, yay! Today’s prompt is “I am the pilot of the storm.” I had to change it a little to work with the past tense but it is in there!
To quickly recap Antique Seduction started with Richard wanting to buy an item of furniture from Elizabeth’s Antique shop. There has been some kissing, some flirting and some exhibitionistic masturbation in front of a roaring fire. I think we all know what is coming next!
He strode across to me in a matter of seconds and was between my thighs moments later. My breath caught in the back of my throat as he stepped out of the shadows and into the flickering firelight. He was completely naked. His long, lithe body was thick in all the right places and I couldn’t wait to feel it pressed against me.
I didn’t have much longer to think as he was obviously desperate for me. He smiled as he pressed his body down on mine and as his hardness pressed between my stomach and his, we kissed. Deep and hard and urgent the kiss blossomed and spread through my body. I pressed my breasts up into his chest and wrapped my thighs around his waist. I may have just orgasmed but I was in no way satisfied.
“You’re amazing,” he gasped as he pulled out of the kisses and moved back to place his cock at my opening. I loosened my grip on his hips to allow him the room he needed to manoeuvre.
“Fuck me, Richard,” I begged, “I need you inside of me.”
“Certainly,” He replied with a wink, “I am not one to keep a gorgeous woman waiting.”
He slid in to me with a smooth thrust of his hips and I groaned in delight.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered, “Oh, Elizabeth.”
His thrusts started slow and measured but soon became wild and aggressive. I was the pilot of the storm as I held on to him, squeezed and clung and kissed to direct his fervour. I wanted to feel him explode inside of me. I wanted to feel his pleasure and know that I had been the source of it.
“Come for me,” I urged and stroked his back, “fill me up, Richard, please.”
My breathy appeal made him moan and thrust harder.
“Yes,” I growled as bliss sparked through my body radiating from where we were joined. Each bump of his pelvis against mine jogged my sensitised clit and mini shots of orgasmic joy exploded within me. “Yes,” I chanted and dug my nails into his shoulders, “Fuck yes, Richard.”
He growled, groaned and gasped as he laboured between my thighs. Sweat sheened his skin and mine and our breaths escaped in short pants.
“Elizabeth,” he roared as he came and stilled above me. “Fuck, you drive me wild.”
“It’s all your fault,” I said, gently stroking his hair, “you started it.”
“No I didn’t. The Welsh dresser did.”
We laughed and kissed and lay together talking about silly things all through the night. We knew we had something amazing between us and no, I don’t mean the antique cabinet. Love blossomed that night.
And that was the last episode of Antique Seduction! Something new will come your way next Wednesday. Did you enjoy Richard and Elizabeth’s story?
If you want more wonderful flashing fun then check out the blogs of these people:
Lori Toland: The Trials of writing M/M Romance and the Joys.
posted in Blog | Tagged: Lori Toland, Love, M/M, Romance, Trials
The trials of writing m/m romance and the joys
I love writing gay romance. For me, there is nothing more beautiful than falling in love, especially between two men. The hardest part is outside my immediate family and my best friend, no one even knows I write.
So when my first book came out, I didn’t really have anyone outside my family and my friend to share it with. And while my family is supportive, no one reads romance (except for my little sister who is 17 and is NOT allowed to read my books yet) so it didn’t really matter to them.
So I’ve built an online group of friends I can chat and have fun with and they are really awesome. I love the authors I’ve made friends with online and in person. And I could go on and on about the joys of writing m/m. I love writing sex and my characters are forever encouraging me to indulge writing them having sex.
I also love the moment when the couple (or threesome) realizes this is the person they have to be with. They’re in love and birds are singing. Okay, maybe I’m getting too fairytale-ish but that’s what I like to write. Cute, sexy man meets his Prince Charming.
Love isn’t always a fantasy but sometimes we have that day we take with us for the rest of our lives, through the heartache of our lives. For Tristan, that moment was when Jamie kissed him for the first time on that hot August day. And ten years later, he has the chance to fall in love again. Is he up to letting his heart go one more time?
Thank you, Victoria, for having me by! And I hope you all enjoy it.
Excerpt:
I found it sad and horrible this was all my life boiled down to. At the end of all of it, I was trying to feel what I had felt when I looked at him. The anger bubbling up within me was simply the pain of being rejected that next morning.
I didn’t say a word to the provocation. I just finished my toast, which created a lump in my throat. I charged the bill to my room and then stood up. I took two steps, then leaned down so only he would hear me. “I don’t know if you are a closet case or what, but you don’t have to worry about me outing you. I’ll be your dirty little secret.” I took a deep breath to steady my voice. “Let’s just treat each other with some sort of civility.”
I couldn’t wait around for his agreement, because the way he looked up at me, those blue eyes of his wide and his lips parted, was driving me to the brink of insanity. I wanted to kiss him until I was drowning again. It took every ounce of strength to turn and walk away.
New review for The Victoria Blisse Collection.
posted in Reviews | Tagged: erotic romance, Letters around Midnight, Masquerading Hearts, Reluctant Muse, Review, Scentsual, The Victoria Blisse Collection, Till the End
Hello all, How is your Saturday going? I’ve had a lovely relaxing day of kids films and playing with lego -pretty perfect eh? And I’ll tell you something else which is pretty perfect, this awesome review of The Victoria Blisse Collection from Letters Around Midnight. She has something awesome to say about each story individually and then about the collection as a whole. As you can purchase the stories individually too, I’m going to give you a little snippet from each part of the review.
“The story is well written and you find yourself really feeling for the character as she is run through every emotion in the book of broken hearts.”
“Cassie and the reader are whisked through Cassie’s sexual liberation at break neck speed. The full panoply of sexual experience is there in one story without ever sounding contrived. A great piece of story telling.”
“This a story you have to read with the “smell” check on. From “vinegar” to “vagina” I challenge anyone to read this story and not smell it as it happens.”
““Till the End” is a good old office romance with an older woman younger man twist, but don’t let that fool you into thinking it has any less impact than the three stories before it. A great story with a great ending that wraps up not just this, the last of the four tales, but the whole book leaving you with a positive post orgasmic glow.”
If you’d like to read the whole review then pop over to the Letters Around Midnight Blog and check it out! Remember all the above titles are also available for kindle, ipod, nook etc. Just search your preferred store and I should pop up!
posted in Friends Friday | Tagged: erotic romance, Her Captive Muse, Indigo Skye, shy guys
I’ve lately been intrigued by the quiet, shy, smoldering type. You know the type of guy I’m talking about, right? He’s the one who won’t say a word all night, but only stands on the fringes of things looking at you in an uncomfortably intense way, like he knows the innermost workings of your soul.
That was my original impetus for writing the short story, Cherry Boy. I’ve always fantasized about deflowering a shy, inexperienced young man, teaching him all the mysteries and pleasures of the bedroom. I want to be a sexual priestess, initiating them into manhood.
During my stint as a Phone-Sex Goddess, there were many times when the caller wouldn’t- or couldn’t- say a word. Stunned into silence by my sexy voice, he would choke. When this happened, I didn’t panic. I didn’t try to make him speak, knowing this would only make him hang up in terror. I’d been trained to handle just such an emergency.
I purred, “Is that a shy guy on the line? It turns me on to know you’re out there, listening…” Then I’d launch into a fantasy and get myself off, while he listened attentively. I was intrigued by these shy guys, and they soon became my favorite callers. It gave me a sense of power to know I could intimidate (and stimulate) someone so completely. My seductive stories wove a spell, and they were helpless, enchanted. I bonded with my Inner Dominatrix, predatory and irresistible. It was even better when my smoky, sexy voice could draw them out of their shells, make them speak up at last.
For years I dated the center-of-attention guys, the class clowns, life of the party. It was difficult not to. They were everywhere, and they take up so much oxygen in a room there’s hardly any air for anyone else to breathe. (Braggarts, bastards, bullies- and all of them were bad in bed.) You have to look at them, the way you have to look at a train-wreck or a bad stand-up comedian- it’s so awful your eyes don’t know where else to go.
I recently attended a party- not some sophisticated soiree with chilled champagne and fancy canapés, but the kind of party where people do keg-stands and pick fights. At this party, I noticed the usual assortment of drunken assholes- the sort of guy I would have gone home with, in the past. That night, they just didn’t interest me- they seemed interchangeable, boring, predictable.
Alpha males, trying to establish dominance in the pack. These are the guys who spit when they talk, throw up in the bathtub, flirt with your best friend, and pinch your ass on the way out the door, going, “Great party.” They all seemed the same, the way brothers seem the same- but these guys weren’t brothers, they were just drunk.
After several tedious conversations with these so-called alpha males, I noticed a couple of other guys standing on the fringes. They looked uncomfortable in their own skins, like they didn’t know anyone and weren’t sure if they were in the right place. Because I often feel awkward at parties (I’m just better at hiding it), I struck up random conversations with each of them at different points during the night. John was cuttingly sarcastic, hilarious. He made me laugh, and he looked at me like I was the only woman in the room worth talking to. I found him funny, self-deprecating and interesting, if a little awkward. The kind of guy who doesn’t fake a smile, doesn’t even know how. I saw him smile, laugh for the first time all night- a genuine smile, a real laugh.
The quiet guy with his back against the wall, holding a drink he doesn’t really want, the kind of guy who won’t say anything unless he’s actually got something of substance to say, the one who’s watching the action from the edge of the crowd- he’s the one I want. (Not the guy who’s trying to impress me with overblown drunken stories and manly braggadocio. Not him, please. He’s boring, and he can’t fuck.) I want the quiet shy one, the one who looks at me intently without saying a word, trying to work up the nerve to make a move. Alpha males with their territorial pissings bore me to death.
The second shy guy- Thomas- wasn’t shy at all, once I struck up a conversation with him. We talked about writing, art, food, career aspirations- a real conversation. He wasn’t trying to get into my pants in some obvious, sophomoric way. He didn’t pinch my ass, or stare at my tits instead of making eye contact. His approach was more subtle- if it was an approach at all. He asked about my book, said he’d always wanted to write. Our conversation was interesting and surprisingly deep, given the circumstances.
Of all the people I talked to that night, only the ones who weren’t trying to be noticed had anything memorable to say. Let this be a lesson to me. The next time I’m at a party, I will remember this- the most interesting men aren’t the ones hamming it up for the crowd. Instead, I’ll look for the shy guy, the one standing on the edge of the action, waiting for me to notice him. He’s the one going home with my digits!
“I’ve wanted to fuck you since we first met,” Morgan said. “That’s one of the main reasons I hired you.” She stripped off her silky gown.
“Why didn’t you mention that in the interview?” He tweaked one nipple. “I would have jumped you then and there.”
“Oh?” She raised a brow and gave him a skeptical look, as though she suspected he was just being kind.
“In a heartbeat.” Brendan grinned and kissed her again. “But you were such a bitch! I thought you hated me or something.”
“I can be a bitch. Especially when I get nervous. That’s when the claws come out.” She raked her nails down his chest, and he shivered. “My shrink says it’s a defense mechanism.”
“I make you nervous?”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Do I?” He nibbled at her throat, sampling the delicate flesh there. She tasted of jasmine and smoke.
“Yes.”
“Good.” Brendan smiled and gave her a lingering kiss. “You make me nervous, too.”
“In a good way?” She wrapped one of his curls around her finger and gave it a little tug.
“In the best way.” God, she made him horny.
“You should be nervous. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“I can’t wait to find out.” Brendan tried to keep his words light, but a tremor of uneasiness broke through. He’d been around the block a few times, but he sure as hell wasn’t Dong Juan. He had a few moves—strictly amateur—a little experience, and a whole lot of enthusiasm. But Morgan was older—more sophisticated than the girls he’d been with in the past. Plus, she had tons of money, was famous, and wicked kinky. The Jim Morrison of the art world.
He knew her dark desires before they ever met—you could tell just by looking at her paintings. He’d studied them in Modern Art 101. Her typical subjects were fragile young men chained to beds or bound on their hands and knees. He remembered their bodies—thin and bruised and beautiful anyway—as if they’d been beaten with whips and chains. Beautiful . . . in spite of the pain or because of it. She took their scars and made them sing—made them shine. It was her gift.
She eats guys like me for breakfast. Morgan reminded him of the praying mantises he’d seen on the nature channel. What if she broke out the whips and chains and hot candle wax and shit? Could he ever hope to please a woman like that? He didn’t know, but he was determined to try.
“Tell me something.” She broke away from his embrace in the middle of a very hot kiss.
“What? Ask me anything.” He was rock-hard and more than a little distracted.
“Have you ever done this before?”
Fuck. Busted. “What, kissing?” he asked. He laughed, tried to sound casual. “Sure.”
“No—have you ever had sex?”
“Yeah.” He worked to keep a defensive tone from creeping into his voice. When she stayed silent, he pressed her. “Why? Am I doing something wrong?”
“No. Just—you seem shy. Nervous. I don’t know.” She shrugged.
“I’m just trying to take it slow.” Brendan stroked the curve of her hip. “I don’t want to scare you.” He bent to kiss her breasts again.
She laughed, hard and loud. “You’re not going to scare me.” She shoved him back down on the bed and straddled his hips. “I might scare you, but you couldn’t scare me if you tried. Anyway, I don’t want you to scare me.”
“What do you want?” He bucked his hips beneath her, horny and impatient. “I’m not psychic.”
“Just be sweet to me—and fuck me all night long.” She ran her long fingers down his chest toward his cock. “Can you?” she asked. “Be sweet?”
“I’ll fuck you until you scream. I’ll stay in bed with you all weekend—never mind all night. But sweetness?” Now it was his turn to laugh. “I can try. But I gotta warn you, I’m not very good at sweet. If you’re after sugar and spice and everything nice, you might have the wrong guy.” Brendan smiled and pinched her ass.
“You’ll learn,” she said. “The willingness to try is everything—in life and in art.”
“If you say so.” His cock jumped at her feather-light touch.
“I do.” She grinned and stroked him harder. With one cool hand, Morgan grasped the base of his shaft. She slipped a condom over the tip and rolled it down the hard curve of his cock. Morgan kissed him, pressing her breasts against his chest. She rubbed up against his body and spread her legs wide. Her cunt opened for him like a flower and he eased his cock into her tight little slit.
She took just the tip at first, refusing to lower herself farther onto his aching shaft, the little tease. “Beg me for it.”
“Please. Please fuck me.”
In the next breathless moment, she embraced it all. So hot and wet—goddamn! Brendan gasped in pleasure. Morgan’s pussy gripped his shaft with surprising strength when he tried to pull out.
“Wait, not yet.” Morgan ground her hips against him in a hypnotic figure eight—the symbol of infinity made flesh. Brendan closed his eyes and bit down hard on his bottom lip. He took a deep breath, trying to control his wild urge to flip her over, take control, and fuck her brains out.
In his mind, Brendan went to the beach. Silky white sand sifted beneath his bare feet. The wind blew his hair back from his face—he could almost smell the salty tang of the sea. He sighed. California—always wanted to go there. Maybe someday. He felt the sun beat down on his face. Her pussy was so good—tight and hot—slick with her juices. The slow rhythm of her hips rocked him like gentle waves breaking against the shore.
Indigo Skye is a writer and photographer living in the American Southwest. Her first novel, Her Captive Muse, was released by Noble Romance Publishers in January. Her work has been widely published online. Last fall, her short story “True Confession” was published in the anthology Uniform Behavior. Her short story, “My Demon Lover,” was recently featured in the Noble Romance Anthology, Red Roses & Shattered Glass. A full list of her published works is available on her blog,
Contact Information for Indigo Skye
Email: indigoskyeinkandart@gmail.com
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When Brendan Delaney answered an ad for an artist’s model, he was looking for an easy way to earn some extra cash. But Morgan Roan wanted more than just a model. Soon, Brendan finds himself caught in a web of deception and desire, lust and betrayal—her captive muse. What price pleasure?
Other Stories from Indigo Skye feature in:
Indigo Skye will be giving away a copy of her book, “Her Captive Muse,” at each stop on this blog tour. To enter, simply post a comment here and make sure you enter your email address. We’ll notify the winners on Monday. Stay tuned to http://indigoskyeinkandart.blogspot.com for more blog tour dates!
About Victoria Blisse
Victoria Blisse is a Mother, Wife, Christian, Manchester United Fan and Award Winning Erotica Authoress.
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