In honor of Breathless Press's Birthday Celebration- I'm being interviewed at
So Click on over there to find out what words of wisdom I have to share... Though that might be a bit of an exaggeration!
Showing posts with label interview. Show all posts
Showing posts with label interview. Show all posts
1/08/2013
Crawl in Bed With Kimber Khan
Crawling Into Bed With Kimber Kahn
____________
And a Good Book Fated in the anthology Winter Heat: Erotic Stories to Warm Your Life
Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton? While I love silk, I can't do it on my sheets. I mean, they're cotton.
*blinks* Can't do what on your sheets? Oh...I see what you meant there...What are you wearing? a pair of comfy shorts and my Team Klarvin t shirt that my Danny made for me.
What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight? LOL Would you believe me if I told you Special K?
If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find? *leans around Lee* I have a nightstand? When did that get there? *blinks* No, really I don't have one. But if you want to be nosy, check under the pillow. There's a bottle of KY warming, a pen, a notebook, and a blood pressure cuff...yeah, don't ask.
*eye roll* Why do they never want me to ask about the most interesting things? Fine. *replaces pillow* Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night? Kind of a combination. I have to have one foot out or I get too hot, but the covers have to be tucked in around the rest of me or the thing under the bed can get me.
Er...The thing under the bed? Does he have a name? *bends down to peer under the bed* I think that's abotu the biggest damn dust bunny I've ever seen. Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up? Why not? My kids do it every chance they get.
What are we reading? Today we're reading Fated. It's my contribution to the anthology Winter Heat: Erotic Stories to Warm Your Life. Fated is the first story I've had published. I'm so green I could give Kermit a run for his money. LOL
Blurb-
Home. Family. To most, those words bring thoughts of safety and joy. To Ryan Daniels, they bring guilt and pain. Returning to the place he grew up, the place he left behind, he finds something he never bargained for and didn't know he was missing until the afternoon he bumped into Stuart Vaughn.
Excerpt-
The man smiled, a slight lifting at the right corner of his mouth. Ryan thought a circus family had taken up residency in his stomach. The family appeared to be practicing their aerial act. He broke eye contact and the spell weaving around him. He listened to the rest of the man’s rendition of “Desperado” by the Eagles keeping his focus on his coffee.
Consumed in thought, he didn’t register the song end. He was trying to rationalize the attraction he had to this total stranger. Was the attraction purely physical? Laying his hand in his lap, he rearranged the boys. Definitely physical. Been a long time since that’s happened. I’m acting eighteen instead of forty.
“Hey. I hope you liked it.”
“It?” Ryan asked. He looked up into the most attractive face he had ever seen. Christ on a crutch!
He hadn’t noticed when they ran into one another earlier. He had been focused on his destination and his slight embarrassment over walking into him. Now, his brain short circuited. He was trapped by the ruggedly handsome good looks.
“The song.” The hint of an impish smile played on his lips. “The one I finished mere seconds ago.” He half turned, never looking away from Ryan, he pointed to the stage.
“Uh, yeah, the song.” Ryan fought for control of his wayward thoughts. Please let the floor open.
“It, uh, was great. You did a great job.” He felt like an idiot. He figured he sounded like one as well.
“I’m Stuart. Stuart Vaughn,” the man said, his hand on the back of the only other chair at the small table. “Mind if I sit?”
“Yeah. I mean No.” He straightened from his slouch, groaning. “Please.” He waved toward the chair. “Help yourself.” Good God, now I sound imbecilic!
“I saw you watching me when I started my song,” Stuart commented. “You an Eagles fan?”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” he replied. “They-,” he cleared his throat. “They’re an awesome group.”
“Do you need another coffee? I’d be happy to get you one,” Stuart offered, pointing toward the counter.
Ryan tilted his disposable cup. “I can get it.” He raised his eyes, nearly drowning in the warmth shining from Stuart’s gaze.
“Not a problem.” He stood, adding. “I need one myself.”
Stuart stopped him as he reached for his wallet. “Put your money away.” He gestured over his shoulder. “My mom owns the joint.”
“Your mom.” He shook his head, the hint of a smile upon his lips. “Sure.”
Thanks for letting me crawl into bed with you Lee!
Find Winter Heat at:
Smashwords at http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/250971
Amazon in paperback at http://www.amazon.com/Winter-Heat-Erotic-Stories-Warm/dp/1480229253/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1354148893&sr=8-1&keywords=Winter+Heat%3A+Erotic+Stories
Amazon in ebook at http://www.amazon.com/Winter-Heat-Erotic-Stories-ebook/dp/B00A0DJYSG/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1354148893&sr=8-2&keywords=Winter+Heat%3A+Erotic+Stories
All Romance eBooks at https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-winterheateroticstoriestowarmyourlife-987657-145.html
Facebook: Kimber Kahn
Twitter: @Kimberkahn2012
11/08/2012
Crawl in Bed with S.A. Garcia
S.A. Garcia
Crawling Into Bed With S.A. Garcia And a Good Book
Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
S.A.: “These old Pirates of the Caribbean sheets are cheap cotton. They have just the correct wear factor. Yes, I have the soul of a five-year-old kid.”
What are you wearing?
S.A.: “Don’t be frightened, but nothing. Just like Ben Franklin, I believe in a good air bath. Trouble is I think Ben and I share a shape with the Michelin Tire Man.”
What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
S.A.: “Hate to be boring, but I don’t snack in bed. I do my drinking before I crawl into bed. I read then pass out.”
If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
S.A.: “That drawer? Let’s see: old birthday cards, coins, hair accessories I haven’t used in years, my old passport, broken sex toys— yeah, I know I should toss them out— too much weird stuff. I am a packrat. That weird slide over the thumb vibrator might still work with a watch battery. Put it back, sweetie. No stealing.”
Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
S.A.: “Cover kicker. I always wake up cold. Worse yet I am a mattress mover. Every night before I sleep, I need to shove my mattress back on the boxspring. That’s why I don’t sleep with my partner, well, that, the snoring and kicking. I’m like a sleep Ninja.”
Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
S.A.: “As long as you like hairy.”
What are we reading?
Cupid Knows Best
By S.A. Garcia
BLURB:
When it comes to his professional life, photographer Carl Conrad is at the top of his game. He molds impressionable minds at university by day and jets off to Paris for gallery showings on long weekends. Unfortunately, he pays for it with his disastrous personal life: Carl kicked his boyfriend to the curb after one too many punches, so now it's just him and his hamsters, one of which he suspects may be a space alien.
Then Cupid takes pity on Carl and hits him where it hurts. It takes Carl all of three seconds to fall head over heels in lust with set design student Marcelino Moya, despite the man’s questionable—okay, deplorable—fashion sense. Convincing Marcelino to give him a chance is the hard part, but Carl is up for the challenge, pun definitely intended.
Marcelino plays hard to get, but he isn't immune to Carl's charms. Carl talks him around to dinner, dating, and eventually moving in. There's just one tiny word standing between Carl and perfect happiness. Why won't Marcelino say the “L” word?
EXCERPT:
I opened the door, slipped into the suite, and entered the bedroom.
Lust howled and stomped in manic pleasure. What a completely unexpected vision. Cupid had worked overtime tonight, although after last night’s confessions, the sight of the naked, gagged, and blindfolded Marcel kneeling on the floor, his wrists tied to the bedpost, struck an uneasy chord. Hell, why question the moment? If this was how Marcel wanted to play, what was wrong with the situation? High marks for the hand-tying stunt. Marcel must have knotted the T-shirt to the post and slid his hands up through the soft loop.
What did Marcel want me to do first? Enlightenment crawled through my shock. Removing the underwear gag sounded like a good first step. He needed to supply me with what he desired from his little fantasy. “Sir, are you injured?”
His voice emerged in breathless relief. “Officer, thank God you’re here! Those cruel fiends left me here for you to find. I’m innocent of any wrongdoing, I am.”
“I’ll be the judge of that issue, suspect. What is your name?”
“Marcelino Moya. Really, Officer, I am innocent! The dishonest miscreants kidnapped me and left me here as punishment.”
“Why did they kidnap you?”
“I threatened to tell the brave police about the gang’s nefarious diamond-smuggling scheme. Alas, tonight I feared the callous monsters meant to kill me. Instead they left me here to take the shameful blame for their immoral actions. Please, Officer, I am innocent of any foul play.” A brief smile quirked Marcel’s lips. He realized he needed to tone down his breathless drama and adjective use.
My lower lip suffered my teeth biting down to control my laughter. Removing the blindfold came next. Marcel rewarded me by blinking like a dazzled starlet preparing for her first big movie kiss. “Thank you, Officer, for rescuing me.”
“Let me free your wrists. Promise me you won’t make any sudden movements.”
“I promise.”
My fingers undid the loose knot. Marcel leaned forward. His arms wrapped around my thighs. “Thank you, Officer. Being trapped here alone frightened me. Now you save me from my woeful plight. How may I reward your bravery?” His lips nuzzled my cock.
“Please, Mr. Moya, I am on duty.”
“Please, Officer, I want to thank you.” Marcel slithered up my body in serpentine grace. His lips randomly attacked cloth until they clamped against my lips. “Let me thank you.”
“I really shouldn’t allow you to—”
“You need to loosen up, Officer. Relax.” Marcel’s body swayed against me. Capable fingers slid between us and worked until my belt and zipper opened. A quick tug removed the belt. Good thinking. A buckle slapping against his flesh might disrupt the pleasure. His teasing tickle stiffened my cock.
Marcel stepped back, his fingers still gently grasping my cock. “Come along, Officer.” Subtle tugs made my desire soar past the Eiffel’s top light.
My body followed his steps backward. Marcel released me, collapsed to the bed, and smiled in full sultry wattage. His fingers brandished our favorite warming lube. “Hurry, Officer, what if the base criminals change their minds and return?”
Wait, Marcel wanted me to love him while still dressed? Had I ever satisfied anyone in bed while clad in a restrictive suit? A few fast fully clothed encounters back in my first greedy days of discovering my sexuality flashed into my mind, but I had never enjoyed sex in a grand canopied bed while dressed in a suit.
My cock’s healthy salute said my love pole voted yes to everything.
I remembered to kick off my short leather boots.
My cock barely endured Marcel’s quick strokes. He rolled onto his stomach. His world-class ass waved hello at me. “Hurry, Officer!”
Fresh inspiration hit me. “First you need punishment for consorting with criminals.” My open palm connected against Marcel’s right ass cheek.
His delighted little gasp urged me to palm warm his left cheek. Three firm spanks against each cheek seemed perfect. Marcel reacted to the surprise punishment in gasping enthusiasm. His body twitched in delight.
The spanking left me oddly breathless in excitement. Interesting. The hilarious false urgency placed pressure on me to make love to my waiting suspect. Kneeling on the bed and spanning my thighs over Marcel’s waiting warmth made me fear for my suit trousers’ safety. The seams strained against my tense thigh muscles.
No matter. I needed to complete the scene. I grasped Marcel’s shoulders.
My cock slid into Marcel’s warm acceptance. He pushed back in his classic devouring manner. Damn, my clothing hampered my natural movement. I never imagined my favorite suit to feel like a straitjacket! Something planned to rip. I imagined the seams popping in fine Hulk transformation fashion.
Yeah, wait, the moment required extra spice. I gasped out a question. “Is this an evil plot to distract me from arresting you, suspect?”
“No, Officer, I want to thank you for saving me, remember?”
I ceased my strokes and rested my weight on Marcel. My palms slid around and squeezed Marcel’s pecs. I tugged his nipple chain. “You swear you speak the truth?” Ouch, my voice sounded damned winded.
“Yes, Officer, yes! Please hurry.” Marcel arched under me and squeezed his inner muscles.
Fuck. Boom, done, I came. How embarrassing. I sprawled atop my lover, gasping and groaning in pleasure.
Pleased little snickers greeted my orgasm. “Hmm, Officer, you need to give yourself a speeding ticket.”
“Be still, suspect.” Resting on his shifting vitality granted me the time to regain my breath. I slid my right fingers under his hips to defeat Marcel’s erection. Lovely to experience him shivering and grunting under me. During his orgasm, Marcel huffed like a boxer seeking the final knockout punch.
“Ahh, thank you, Officer.”
—FIN—
Thanks for reading!
Cupid Knows Best: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3303
Books with Dreamspinner Press
Books with Silver Publishing
S.A. Garcia's World of Words: http://sa-garcia.macmate.me/S.A_Garcias_World_of_Words/S.A._Garcias_World_of_Words.html
Facebook: Sandra Ann Garcia
Twitter: @SAGarcia_Writer
11/06/2012
Crawl in Bed With Dorian and Jansen
Crawling Into Bed With Dorian Grant and Jansen aka Sweetheat
And a Good Book Sin & Seduction
Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Dorian: Egyptian cotton
Jansen: Like… a bazillion thread-count or something that costs more than most people’s mortgage
Dorian: Nothin’s too good for his sweet ass
So I see. Aren't y'all just cute? What are you wearing?
Dorian & Jansen: Nothing
Then I am woefully overdressed...What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Dorian *as he grabs Jansen's ass*: I’m snackin’ on him
Jansen *wags his brows and makes kissy faces at Lee while he whispers to Dorian*: But we could share him, right? He’s kinda hot.
Sorry guys, I am taken. If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
Dorian & Jansen: Lube
Jansen *mumbles about Dorian's stupid gun*
*quirks brow* Gun? Is that a euphemism? No? We'll leave that drawer shut then. Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
Jansen *thumbing toward Dorian*: I would curl around him
Dorian: And I would be in control of the covers
Oh..good thing I brougth my sweats then, I can't stand being cold. Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
Jansen: You can put your cold anything right between us, sexy
Dorian *gives Jansen a droll stare*: Hey. Hey, now. Ya might wanna make sure I’m willin’ to share.
Jansen: Are you?
Dorian *looks at Lee*: Mmm… Let me check out that bod.
Um...y'all are trying to get me in trouble!
Dorian: I’m Game!
It's a look but no touch policy in our household. What are we reading?
Sin & Seduction
Blurb:
Dorian Grant is king of the New Orleans underworld, but he isn’t mafia and doesn’t appreciate the assumption. He’s simply a crude businessman anyone in his right mind would think twice about screwing over. Life in the Big Easy is all about sin, and violent, short-tempered Dorian has committed them all.
But not all New Orleans sins leave a bad taste in the mouth, as Dorian discovers the night a man stage-named Sweet Heat dances into his life at a club called Sin and Seduction. Dorian was expecting a hot lay. He damn sure wasn’t looking for a relationship, and certainly not with someone like Jansen, who turns Dorian’s grimly organized world upside down.
Now Dorian finds himself pressuring Jansen to quit his job because he can’t stand the thought of other men touching what’s his. Of course, Jansen wants a little quid pro quo—after all, Dorian’s job is dangerous. Jansen just doesn’t realize how dangerous until it’s too late.
Excerpt:
“You be careful, you fool,” Jason yelled out to the fading image of his best friend disappearing in a blaze of golden-thonged glory.
Jansen hightailed it up to Mr. Grant’s booth. He hit the top floor landing panting. The ecstasy had already done a number on him. His skin tingled. Pupils dilated to hell. He wanted to touch anything and everything he could. He wanted to be touched by anyone and everyone. He needed to be stimulated, needed… to be fucked.
Not good.
The guy in the black-on-black Armani suit had a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label turned up to the sky. He reeked of money and power and things Jansen had never experienced in his life.
He’d hit the jackpot.
“Mr. Grant?”
The big man leaned forward, looked down Jansen’s body, spotted the bulge between his legs, then let his eyes wander back up. In a firm, commanding, more than manly voice, Mr. Grant said, “Come here.”
Jansen’s body stiffened. A jolt of something dangerous and intoxicating shot through him, and he felt a little tingle of thrill ripple down his spine. Absently, he moved closer to the booth. As soon as he was within an arm’s length, Mr. Grant reached out and hooked his fingers around the tiny golden band of Jansen’s thong. He pulled Jansen forward, so close his crotch was inches from the man’s face.
“Dance for me, boy.” The words left Mr. Grant’s mouth in a drunken growl.
Sounds from the club below roared up toward the private booth on the balcony overlooking the joint. Bass pulsed. Lights flashed blue and red and green. Sweat glistened on Jansen’s body. He straddled the stranger’s legs, pressed his barely covered, thick length against Mr. Grant’s groin. He could feel the hard press of the stranger’s shaft even with Armani slacks between them. Jansen gyrated, ground harder against his thighs.
Mr. Grant’s head rolled back as he gripped Jansen’s hips so hard the sudden stabbing pain of fingertips biting into muscle made Jansen hiss. He shook it off, fought to keep this… thing with Grant going strong. Jansen pressed his lips to Grant’s throat, kissing his flesh, sucking his neck. The stranger wrapped his hand around the back of Jansen’s neck and pulled him down until his ear met Grant’s mouth.
Grant said, “I’m gonna fuck ya tonight.”
10/30/2012
Crawl in Bed With Pan
Crawling Into Bed With Pan
And a Good Book Wicked Satyr Nights by Rebekah Lewis
*crawls into bed* Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Cotton. Nothing against the silk ones, but I like to keep it simple….until it comes to what happens in them.
*eyes widen* Is that so? What are you wearing?
Now, now…wouldn't you like to know? I'll give you a hint: nothing. Oops. Ruined the surprise!
Can't believe I missed THAT! What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Is that an offer? The only cravings I suffer from are of the carnal variety. Pesky satyr curse. I promise I don't bite. At least not in this form.
Um...that's a damn shame. I quite enjoy a good bite...Okay, so if I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
Why, you would find my panpipes in that drawer. Go ahead. Caress them. Give them a good…blow.
*slams drawer* Why did that sound ominous? Let's change the subject...Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
Covers are for wimps. I've slept outside, in the nude, in a blizzard. But I don't advise trying that unless you are a god. You may freeze something off you may want to keep.
ER...Yes, I think I'll stick to sleeping inside. Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
Oh, they will warm you up alright. No need to have a puppy to sleep on your feet when you have a satyr in your bed.
This might have been a more dangerous undertaking than I thought...What are we reading?
Wicked Satyr Nights
Blurb
Some creatures want to be found.
When Dr. Katerina Silverton travels into the Pine Barrens to make a documentary on the Jersey Devil, she doesn't believe she will find evidence of anything supernatural. However, Kat soon finds herself face-to-face with the very creature she was sent into the forest to capture on film.
In Ancient Greece, the god Pan made a terrible mistake which resulted in the creation of a race of immortal satyrs. Centuries later, he lives secluded in the Pine Barrens, frightening the mortals by taking the guise of an abhorrent local monster. When a beautiful woman shows up in his forest looking for proof of his existence, Pan can't resist revealing himself to her.
But outside forces may be manipulating them both, pushing them together for nefarious reasons. Kat must decide if she could learn to love a satyr or if his appearance is more than she can handle. Can she resist Pan's wicked nature, or will she give into the temptations beyond her wildest fantasies?
Available now at: http://buff.ly/PIe5jF
For more information about the author visit her website: rebekah-lewis.com
Twitter: @RebekahLLewis (please note the double L)
Excerpt
He flapped his leathery wings, and gaining air, Pan swooped down in front of Rick first, shielding himself from the camera lens as he did. The footage would show no visible evidence of him to make believers out of the humans who would view it. As with the first time he toyed with them, he knew sound effects could be easily added from an unseen location, so he wasn't worried about being heard.
Cindy noticed the threat to her husband and shined the light in his eyes, hoping to blind him. He couldn't blame her for not knowing he wasn't a mere animal to be deterred by such a feeble attempt. His eyes adjusted easily to any location and most levels of brightness or darkness. But since he was going for dramatic...
He used his wing to slap the spotlight out of her hands. It skidded across the dirt road with a loud clatter. The light flickered once, twice, dimmed and finally went dead. The moon cast enough light to outline the individuals present, but offered little more than that. Cindy took a few steps back and tripped, landing hard on her ass. She immediately began scrambling backward, attempting to regain her footing.
Rick stepped in front of her, shielding her. He hadn't shut down the camera, but slowly he set it down, probably hoping the beast before him was too stupid to realize what a camera was. Keeping his hands out in nonthreatening gesture, Rick slowly stood up and began to back away. He remained between Pan and Cindy. How very noble.
Pan smiled, though in this form it likely appeared as a snarl. Pushing off from the ground once more, he knocked Rick to the ground, causing Cindy to tumble back down as well. Neither concerned him.
With a gust of air, he pushed upward, flapping his wings as he gained height. The trees made it difficult, but he maneuvered through them like he'd been born to fly. He glided under a low branch toward Katerina.
She dropped to the ground as he went over her head, dodging him. His adrenaline shot through his system, almost as invigorating as an orgasm in itself. He was pleased she wasn't going to be caught easily. The hunt would make the capture so much more satisfying.
Katerina was almost to the van when Pan landed on the top of the vehicle and perched in front of her like a gargoyle, crouched with one hand on the edge of the roof. His wings folded and towered above him as he leered down at her, sizing her up. She stared up at him, mouth open in a scream that provided no sound. He watched as a tear streaked down her face, and he felt it like a sucker punch to the gut.
She was terrified of him. He stood no chance with her now, and he knew it. However, if he gave up and let her go, she'd flee the area and give up her film. She should. flee and leave the area. It was the best thing for her to do. The only thing that would keep her safe from his lecherous thoughts.
No. She is mine.
The last time he'd felt a strong connection to someone, he'd let her slip through his fingers and into the path of harm before he could see if anything more could have blossomed between them. Not again. Fuck waiting to see why she was here. He wasn't going to let her leave or stand by as something happened to her.
Never again.
10/25/2012
Crawl in Bed With AT Weaver
Crawling Into Bed With
A T Weaver
And a Good Book
Catriona’s Curse
Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Cotton – better snuggle a little closer, it’s a very small bed
What are you wearing?
A-h-h-h – don’t tell my grandkids, but nothing.
What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Chocolate covered strawberries and wine. The wine was made by a friend of mine.
If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
It’s never closed. The handle of my ‘lotion on my back’ applicator keeps it open. Oh, and there’s a little toy we don’t talk about.
Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
Depends on how hot I am.
Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
Sure.
What are we reading? (include your cover art, buy links & excerpt)
(Written in
first person – Sunny Nelson speaking.)
We looked
into each other’s eyes. I couldn’t wait any longer. I took Jeff’s hand and led
him up the stairs to my room. My room was the first one finished. Three walls
were painted a soft green which complimented the fourth wall, a wallpapered
mural of a forest. It was almost like being in the orchard clearing. An ivory
spread covered the bed, its fringe just barely touching the dark-green,
thick-piled carpet. The chests and dresser were solid walnut. Two comfortable
chairs in ivory and green stripes faced the fireplace. I walked over and lit
the waiting fire. The flames cast a strange light off the big-screen television
mounted above the mantle. The smell of vanilla incense burning in the bathroom
filled the room. We set our glasses on a stand next to the bed and I pulled
Jeff into my arms. He trembled as our lips met.
“What’s the
matter, Babe? You aren’t nervous are you?”
He smiled
weakly. “Just apprehensive and anxious.”
I reached
up and stroked his check. Having his skin under my fingers felt good. I’d
missed it more than I realized. “Me too. I’ve missed having you here so much.”
I
unbuttoned his shirt as he fumbled with mine. When the shirts were out of the
way, I ran my fingers through the hair on his chest as we kissed. As I pulled
him down on top of me, the new fan I’d installed to replace the old one started
rotating. We finished undressing each other between kisses. His tongue slipped
into my mouth. Nothing ever tasted so sweet. Our breathing became heavy as our
hands caressed each other. I reached over to the nightstand and found the lube
and condoms I placed there earlier. As I entered him, I felt a joy I’d never
experienced. This was who I was destined to love. Maybe some being or force
other than myself decided it; I didn’t care. This was Heaven. I’d found my
soulmate.
* * *
Afterwards,
we lay in each other’s arms, spent and fully satisfied. The fan no longer
rotated.
I jumped up
from the bed, “I’ll be right back, Babe.”
I went into
the bathroom and started the water in the Jacuzzi. I poured some bubbling
Vanilla-scented oil into it, and lit several candles I placed on the ledge
behind the tub. I went back to Jeff, filled our wine glasses, and said, “Come
on, Babe. I didn’t want to try out the Jacuzzi without you. Let’s break it in
together.”
He followed
me into the bathroom. As I got into the tub and motioned for him to follow, I
explained vanilla was one of the scents of Imbolc and the colors of the
candles, white, for the returning light, red, for passion, and light green, for
new spring growth, were the colors associated with Imbolc. He sat with his back
leaning against me. The water jets bubbled around us. I stroked his chest and
kissed the back of his neck. He rose up, turned to face me, and straddled me.
As he started to lower himself, I said, “Hold it, Babe. I don’t have a condom
in here.”
He sat down
on my legs and pressed his fingers against my lips. “We talked about this
before. I know I’m negative and I know you tested again before we left California
“It was
negative.”
He skimmed
some of the oil from the top of the water and rubbed it onto my cock. “If we’re
going to be in a committed relationship built on trust and love, we don’t need
them.” He rose up onto his knees and closed his eyes. As he took a deep breath
in through his open mouth, he lowered himself onto my slick, anxious shaft. His
breath came out in a moan of pleasure.
We got out
of the tub, dried each other and went back to the bedroom. It was my turn to
feel his uncovered cock inside my ass. Afterward, we lay wrapped around each
other and slept.
http://atweaver-writer.comhttp://alixtheweaver.wordpress.com
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/102867
http://www.amazon.com/Catrionas-Curse-A-T-Weaver/dp/1470039168/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1348931946&sr=8-1&keywords=Catriona%27s+Curse
email: alixtheweaver@yahoo.com
10/23/2012
Crawl in Bed With Marcelino and Carl
Crawling Into Bed With
Carl and Marcelino from Cupid Knows Best by S.A. Garcia
And a Good Book
*crawls into bed* Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Carl: “They are well-worn cotton. I like my sheets comfy and snuggly. My ex Martin bought us,” –pauses- “sorry, sorry.”
Marcelino: “It’s all right, I know you threw out those sheets along with him. I know we’d rip silk sheets or skid right off of them. We act too crazy for silk. I’d end up breaking my arm.”
Really? I'd so like to see that. No? Okay. What are you wearing?
Carl: “Marcelino is wearing a big smile along with his nipple rings and chains. He looks perfect.”
Marcelino: “Carl is wearing a massive hard-on. I think his cock is trying to tell me something.”
OOH...well then, maybe I WILL get to see that! I"m almost afraid to ask...but what are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Carl: "Cahors wine and prime dark chocolate accompanied by a little herbal smoke for seasoning."
Marcelino: “That last bit is entirely Carl’s doing. My wicked old man is doing his best to corrupt me. I do love this Cahors. The name even sounds sinful.”
Carl: “Yeah, right, like I am corrupting you.”
*blinks* Chocolate, corruption...wine...massive...*shakes head* Focus...Focus....If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
Carl: “That drawer? Spare change, a baggy of herbal smoke, rolling papers, roach clips, my passport, and other assorted junk."
Marcelino: "What, you’re not gonna open my drawer?"
Carl: "Why should Lee peek in there?"
Marcelino: "I happen to like showing off my silk thong collection."
*In a reasonable tone* Well, you could have worn one then. Not that I'm complaining or anything....Do you boys roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
Marcelino: “Carl is a cover-kicker. My ass is always cold.”
Carl: “I’m a cover kicker? Really?”
Marcelino: “Honest. When you roll over, you take everything with you.”
Carl: “That’s not cover kicking; that’s cover theft.”
Marcelino: “You still expose my poor ass to the cold drafts.”
Carl: “What can I say, even in my sleep I want your ass naked.” -leans forward for a smooch-
Nice...carry on. Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
Carl: “I wouldn’t do it. Marcelino’s reaction won’t be pretty."
Marcelino: “Oh come on, I wouldn’t smack a guest. Or would I?” - smiles to show his teeth-
Carl: “Time to drink more wine.”
I'll um...just keep over here in this little corner. Hate to have to explain away any new bruises. What are we reading?
Marcelino: “We’re reading about us! About how we met and what—”
Carl: “Don’t spoil things, sweetie.”
Marcelino: “Damn. Okay, I’ll just turn it over to the words.”
Cupid Knows Best
By S.A. Garcia
BLURB:
When it comes to his professional life, photographer Carl Conrad is at the top of his game. He molds impressionable minds at university by day and jets off to Paris for gallery showings on long weekends. Unfortunately, he pays for it with his disastrous personal life: Carl kicked his boyfriend to the curb after one too many punches, so now it's just him and his hamsters, one of which he suspects may be a space alien.
Then Cupid takes pity on Carl and hits him where it hurts. It takes Carl all of three seconds to fall head over heels in lust with set design student Marcelino Moya, despite the man’s questionable—okay, deplorable—fashion sense. Convincing Marcelino to give him a chance is the hard part, but Carl is up for the challenge, pun definitely intended.
Marcelino plays hard to get, but he isn't immune to Carl's charms. Carl talks him around to dinner, dating, and eventually moving in. There's just one tiny word standing between Carl and perfect happiness. Why won't Marcelino say it?
EXCERPT:
Where did my clever lover hide? I didn't trust him. Once we connected, an elegant someone had turned ridiculously clumsy in the classroom. Marcelino lost his grace and transformed into a staggering klutz. My poor body was run into, brushed against, and leaned on for support while we searched for mysterious camera problems. Seductive Marcelino learned how to tease and torture me.
Before I turned my attention to the eight-by-ten enlarger, I needed to pinpoint his exact location. There: my suspect hovered close, but not close enough for a sneak attack. Good.
Marcelino smiled at me in full innocence. The room's red safe light cast demonic shadows onto his structured face.
As I skillfully demonstrated an enlarger technique, strong fingers darted between my legs and gripped. Hard.
A strangled little yelp flew from my surprised lips. How did sneaky Marcelino maneuver behind me? Of course my amused students offered me the sadly familiar "what the hell is wrong with Carl now?" stare. Hell, I had grown used to the laughable expression. The look had been aimed at me for years. "Sorry, I experienced a weird muscle cramp. Must be old age attacking me." More like virile youth.
During the next class, I planned to wear tight briefs, not my typical loose boxers. I needed protection against my wild suspect. I might resort to wearing a chastity belt or armor. Ouch.
Strange how the odd muscle cramp never tormented me again. The rest of the class passed sans further physical molestation.
I gathered the students for a few closing remarks concerning their upcoming quiz. What a pushover; I gave the class a take-home quiz. Somehow a few students still had wrong answers. They received a special note in my book marking them as slothful for not bothering to look up the correct answers.
A mocking light accent teased around my heart. "Professor, how does your muscle cramp feel?"
"Much better, thanks for asking."
Marcelino shot me a fine Cheshire Cat smile. "You need to go home and rest up."
"Why?" I leaned close and dropped my volume. "Isn't tonight a torment-me evening?"
"Not really. Well, it is an I-am-not-hopping-into-bed-with-you evening. If you regard such a night as torment, then your description fits. I'll come over for a quick visit after I close the shop."
I tried making my words sound inviting. "Imagine, when you move in with me, you won't have to work."
Whoops, I failed. I received a supremely scolding stare, a stare designed to humble me. Marcelino never appreciated badgering about the hoped-for event. "Did it ever occur to you that I enjoy my part-time gig? Beside, I receive a serious discount."
I almost said something rude about his lacking fashion sense, but surprise, this hippie understood fashion tact. Today’s tattered purple velvet bell-bottoms belonged in the tacky hall of fame. At least his mauve T-shirt almost matched.
"Forget I said anything. I treasure any time I spend with you."
"There’s the proper attitude. I can only drop by for a drink and a cuddle."
"Yeah, like I said, torment."
My sadist pursed his full lips at me. He swatted my arm. "Boo-hoo. See you around nine thirty."
Watching my sexual tormentor's purple velvet-clad ass sway away from me added to my despair. I glanced into the photo equipment room. Hey, hold on, what had happened to the darkroom monitor? Instead of waiting for her to appear, I cleaned up after the students.
I plodded toward home like a tired mule. Sigh. I wanted Marcelino in my bed every night. Unfortunately he had early-morning classes on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. If he needed to rise early, he refused to stay over. His restraint stunned me. On nights when he didn't work, dinner together was fine, but my sexy Latin lover refused to step into my bedroom. We cuddled on the couch or enjoyed walks through the Village holding hands, but absolutely no sex reared its lively head.
I resorted to calling them torment-me nights. My gentle coaxing about how I lived closer to school, we'd sleep before midnight, I'd rise early and make him breakfast, fell like rain in a rushing river. Useless. Nothing persuaded Marcelino from his stubborn schedule.
What the hell did hotter-than-habaneros Marcelino do to me? Did he doubt our future as a couple?
No. Acting ridiculous did not fit into my romantic plan. I acted like a horny ass. My overreaction to his logical rules sickened me. Marcelino, as wild as he was, responded to our new affair like a sane person. I acted like an obsessive madman chasing a sexy walking, talking dream.
Yoga, wine, and working on a proposal to teach a summer course promised to occupy my overheated mind until nine thirty.
Had I ever acted this obsessive over Martin? Huh, the fascinating thought teased me. For some reason Martin had never inspired the level of devotion I offered my sweet Marcelino.
My mind slapped around this absorbing topic until I entered my home. Had I always sensed something wrong in my last relationship? Weird.
Yes indeed, yoga to the rescue.
At 9:43, Marcelino's custom two raps followed by three quick taps announced his arrival. My childish side considered not giving him the downstairs foyer keys until he moved in, but acting petty would destroy my cool mantra. I stood, avoided stepping on my travel ball-rolling hamster, and undid the final locks.
Our greeting kiss tempted me to grab Marcelino and haul him to the bedroom. No. I refused to act like a disrespectful dolt.
He leaned back against my supportive hand weave and sighed. "Today put me through the wringer. I am exhausted, but I wanted to see you."
What a perfect opening line to jump on. "Why not stay here tonight?"
The scolding stare's little brother arrived for a quick visit. "Because I still have work to finish for tomorrow."
"Great, out of all the gay males roaming around this grand city, I find the dedicated one."
"Precisely. Stop complaining and pour me a glass of something relaxing. Hey there, Spazz." Marcelino waved at my hamster. He flopped onto the couch in dramatic sprawl. His eyes rolled heavenward in disgust. "To add to the day's stress, I conducted a silly spat with Andre over how he wanted the sweaters folded. What an anal jackass. 'No, Marceliiiiinoo, 'ooo need to fooold theeem liiiike deeese, width theee arms just seeew.' The weirdo fakes his French accent. What the hell, he's from Toronto, not Paris or even Montréal. He lays his accent on so thick it's a wonder our customers don't trip over his words."
I almost missed the glass from laughing. "You are a wicked mimic. He does sound like Pepé Le Pew." I handed Marcelino his glass of Shiraz. We clinked and sipped.
"Ooo, how fine, Robin Hood. Errol Flynn is sexy eye candy in snug tights. Look at those thighs. Yummy." Marcelino snuggled close. He rested his head on my shoulder. How pleasant to sit and relax, let the world drop away, and trust in heroic Robin Hood to save the day again. Watching Errol dash about in those revealing tights made me want to play a male variation of Maid Marian.
Common sense warned me to halt what evil lurked in my mind. Hey, life needed a little spice, correct? I finished my wine and set down the glass. Good, Marcelino's glass also rested on the table. "I know exactly how to relax you."
"How?"
I reached to undo Marcelino's zipper. In the next second, Marcelino stood and almost knocked me off the couch. Only the padded arm prevented me from hitting the floor. My lover moved like a snake!
Common sense snickered in glee. Marcelino stood over me, shaking a scolding finger in mock sternness. "You handsome bully, you have no intention of relaxing me. I refused to be seduced. I said one glass of wine and a cuddle. Sir, you just turned into a wicked pumpkin."
I shrugged and tucked my hands behind my neck. "Can you blame a deprived man for trying?"
"Deprived! More like sneaky." He finished his wine and sighed in fresh dismay. "Is it that late? Sorry, I need to dash. How about I make dinner for you tomorrow night?"
"Sounds fine to me. I'll buy scallops."
"Mmm, delicious. Hey, on Friday we celebrate our two-week anniversary."
"Has it only been two weeks? Prepare yourself for a big cliché, but I feel like we have known each other forever."
"You smoked too much pot today."
"Honest, only one joint after my yoga session. I’m cutting back."
"I advise you to smoke another to help you sleep. I don't want you suffering from advanced sexual frustration." Marcelino snickered.
I stood. He stepped back and grinned. "You know what? You are correct. Leave before I peel off your clothes and hide them to keep you from escaping."
"I shall take my exit." We kissed without embracing. "Sweet dreams."
"Scram!"
Thanks for reading!
S.A. Garcia
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S.A. Garcia's World of Words: http://sa-garcia.macmate.me/S.A_Garcias_World_of_Words/S.A._Garcias_World_of_Words.html
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