novella

Holiday Reading: Digging Deep

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July 27  |  Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

DD ebookI’m away on my holidays for a little while, so I thought I’d leave you a little summer something to  read while I’m gone.

Enjoy!

Here’s the first chapter of  my erotic romances, Digging Deep , as a special treat on a cold day …

Chapter One

Irritably adjusting her wide-brimmed hat for the third time in as many minutes, Dr Beth Andrews felt the sting of the African sun sear the back of her neck through the tresses of her long, ginger hair.

She never dreamt she’d miss the stubborn, muddy clay of the British earth she was used to hunting through in her search for archaeological data, but the uncooperatively fine white sand of North Africa was enough to try the patience of a saint.

Throwing down her brush in overheated exasperation, Beth thought fondly of her excavation trowel. Her tool of choice had quickly been rendered obsolete in the face of so much sand, and a job that was, by necessity, slow was reduced to a snail’s pace as the metre by metre square of the Ancient Roman bath house site in which she worked backfilled in on itself with every sweep of her light bristled brush.

It had been a dream come true for Beth when she’d been selected to lead the University of Wales’s excavation team, digging the sprawling Ancient Roman city of Lepti Major on the outskirts of Sousse in Tunisia. She had longed to experience new exotic sites and see new exotic sights. The chance to uncover stunning mosaics and city roads that hadn’t been trodden for 1000 years was an opportunity she’d had no intention of letting pass by.

olive groves

The fact she’d be sharing responsibility for the site with her archaeological hero, the unimaginatively named Dr Harrison Harris from Colorado, an American academic who’d been the subject of many of Beth’s private fantasies since she’d fallen in love with his work, not to mention the photograph of him on the back cover of his books, in her first year as a student, was neither here nor there.

Flicking her eyes covertly over towards Harrison, Beth averted her attention away from the slight increase in her pulse rate by recalling what the site’s previous supervisor had said about working in Africa’s extreme temperatures. “Scalding by day, and freezing by night”. Linda had warned Beth that her freckle-spotted, sensitive flesh would loathe being either fried or frozen just as much as her archaeological brain would relish the challenge of constructing a city from its remains.

Beth hated the fact that Linda had been right. She’d never been rendered so sweaty, not to mention so blotched with extra heat-induced freckles, in her life. There couldn’t have been a centimetre of her body that hadn’t got a fresh cluster of beige dots on it. After only a week under the sun, it was becoming a struggle to hold on to her generally calm approach to life, and Beth was finding that her temper, which rarely flared in the UK, was on a permanently short fuse.

What got to her most was that none of her colleagues seemed to be suffering at all. They were all happily tanning as they worked, and sleeping off their exhaustion with ease at night.

It hadn’t taken Beth more than a few hours of digging in the unshaded bath house on her first day to see that a survival technique was required to prevent the elements disrupting her professional judgement. She tried thinking about work, home, rain, and even walks in the snow as she worked, but only one thing successfully diverted her attention from the exposure of her unusually pale flesh to the elements, and that was to allow her mind to fill with erotic scenarios and fantasies, while her hands got on with the job in hand.

This specialised amusement had the benefit of taking her mind off the sun that managed to scald her back even through three layers of thin cotton, and had the added bonus of warming her at night. Lying on her thin camping mattress, Beth would recall all she’d pondered during the day, engendering an ardour between her thighs that her fingers deftly maximised, leaving her physically warmer and bodily sated, and thus making it easier for her to fall asleep.

At first, Beth had been determined that Harrison would not feature in her erotic musings. Her resolve had not lasted long, however, and although she did her best to make the men in her sexy survival scenarios anonymous, the American’s face crept in with increasing frequency.

Manoeuvring a layer of burning sand from one side of her section to the other, Beth considered her colleague. His reputation as an expert in Roman archaeology was renowned. Beth had never dreamt she’d ever meet him, let alone work with him as an equal. His knowledge and academic intellect had been enough to make her heart flutter for years. Yet what Harrison was like in reality was not at all how she’d assumed he’d be.

She’d envisaged him as being chatty, tall, slim, dark-haired, and weather-tanned. He’d probably wear glasses for reading, and be forever clad in T-shirts and large-pocketed shorts as he leapt around excavations like a gazelle.

In fact, she’d hardly heard Harrison’s distinct Colorado accent. He seemed to prefer his own company to that of the group. When he did talk to Beth, he called her “doll,” which made her feel like a lump of mass-produced, animated plastic.

Harrison was about 5 foot 7, not the 6 foot plus she’d pictured, and his spiked hair was a sun-kissed blond and not brown. His build was stocky and muscular, his bare arms and legs permanently gritted with granules of sand, and although he moved with a speed which would have been the envy of any gazelle, he managed to proceed around the site somehow without making a sound.

The problem is, Beth thought as she traced the outline of what she suspected might be a Roman drain gully, I built up an image of him based on a book cover’s black-and-white out of date headshot, and I was way off.

archaeology in sand

She’d been right about Harrison wearing knee-length shorts, though. Everyone on the dig wore such shorts, except for the stick thin, heavy-chested blonde on the American team, who might as well have been wearing knickers her shorts were so scanty. Beth sighed as she looked down at her own attire. A protective covering of baggy clothing shrouded her limbs, and her porcelain neck was hidden beneath spirals of her ginger hair, which glowed as if she’d been hit by radiation rather than African sunlight.

Ryan wasn’t helping either. The most charismatic of her students had been so enthusiastic on his first morning that he’d headed to the site before everybody else, without waiting for Beth to detail where to dig. Consequently, he’d powered through the ground in an alarmingly gung-ho manner, neglected the recording of each strata-graphic layer and, with his six-pack and biceps shining against 120 degrees of sunshine, had crashed his shovel into the corner of a mosaic that had been safely protected by the landscape for hundreds of years, breaking off half-a-dozen exquisitely coloured tessera cubes, and rendering one of the depicted Medusa’s snakes partially headless.

Beth had gone ballistic. To his credit, Ryan had been mortified. He’d begged her not to tell anyone. For the sake of the university’s reputation, not to mention her fear that Harrison would take one look at her careless student, assume she was no good at supervision, and send her home, she had agreed it would be their secret. Ever since, however, Ryan had been driving Beth mad with his attempts to make it up to her at every opportunity.

Only that morning he’d lent so close to Beth as he informed her he was going to make up for his blunder that his soft Welsh tones had vibrated against her skin. His manner was so blatantly suggestive that she hadn’t been able to prevent the inappropriate smile that had very briefly crossed her lips.

Picking up her dustpan and brush, Beth stroked away the grains of sand that sat between her and her judgement as to whether the lines being revealed were part of the bath house drainage system or not. Expertly tracing the changing colours in the freshly uncovered ground, Beth, confident that her theory was correct, and that the ancient shadows of the gully she could see could be followed across the ground with ease, readopted her technique to deviate her attention from the cruel climate, while her fingers worked the earth.

What exactly is Ryan offering? she wondered. A sneaky snog behind the equipment cupboard? A cooling down of my chest with his tongue? Or is he more ambitious than that? Does he imagine me naked, face down, spread-eagled over an empty wheelbarrow with his cock between my legs; or see us together in the shower, washing off the worst of the sand that seems to be permanently stuck to my body while he shoves his dick down my throat?

For goodness’ sake, woman! she chided herself. Beth was surprised to find her chest, whose generous size she’d always loved before, but now heartily wished was small enough to go without the extra layer of material her bra provided, was becoming taut. Cross with herself, she shook her hair out from beneath her hat, as if trying to dislodge the thoughts from her head. Having random erotic dreams might be the only thing that keeps you sane in this blast furnace – but you must not consider your students! Get a grip!

Briskly returning to the matter in hand, Beth cut through a layer of denser sand, wishing Ryan wasn’t working the section directly behind her. She daren’t turn to check he was all right like she did her other students. The last time she’d done so, she had caught him ogling her butt with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, which couldn’t have been mistaken for anything other than the type of lustful intentions her own imagination had just so colourfully displayed to her. Ever since then, she had been more than a little self-conscious of the stretch of her cotton combats over her backside.

Crouching on her haunches, letting her eyes roam across the site as a whole, Beth struck Ryan from her mind, and began weighing up the significance of what she was excavating in relation to what else was opening up on the dig before her. As she leant in closer, a glitter of something just below the upper level of the sand caught her eye. Trailing her brush across the yellow surface, she mentally listed all the hidden things that might shine: mosaic tesserae, jewellery, votive offerings to the gods …

With a sharp scream, Beth stumbled backwards out of her square in a mad scramble to escape. Her find was none of the things archaeologists dream of uncovering. In the haste to get away, her left foot caught on the guide string that divided her metre section from the next. Tripping, she fell heavily backwards.

Flushed with an embarrassment that enflamed her already pinkened features, Beth found herself being scooped onto Ryan’s lap, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

Alerted by the unexpected shriek, the other students in the immediate vicinity began to gather round. Most of them, however, backed away the moment they saw what had caused Beth’s unusual lack of professionalism; except for the leggy American, who looked at Ryan in disgust, pointedly rolled her eyes at Beth, and returned to her work.

Beth didn’t have time to think about the blonde’s unsympathetic reaction. All her attention was on the bronze snake which hadn’t appreciated its home being disturbed by an inquisitive human. She was convinced it was staring straight at her, its tongue flicking, smelling the air around it in an accusatory manner.

Her initial shock subsiding, and abruptly sensible of where she was, and how it must appear to see one of the supervisors in the embrace of a student, Beth scrambled shakily to her feet. She wasn’t sure if she was more mortified by her public reaction to the snake, or by the fact that her body felt more than a little content at being cradled so protectively in Ryan’s arms so recently after her erotic ruminations had headed in his direction. ‘I’m sorry, everyone! That was a bit of a shock. I’m not good with snakes.’

‘Don’t worry about it, boss.’ Ryan ran a consoling hand down Beth’s cotton-covered arm, creating small prickles of uninvited lust that appeared on top of the prickles of fear already there, and sending them both tripping towards her crotch.

Rueing her kinky imagination, Beth took another step away from her student. Moving rather too fast, she collided with the stocky frame of Harrison Harris. He’d crossed the site on his ever-silent feet to see what all the fuss was about without her even noticing, causing Beth to jump out of her skin for a second time. ‘Honestly. Harrison, don’t you ever make a sound when you move?’

‘Hardly ever!’ He treated her to one of his Colorado smiles, making Beth suspect that he was privately laughing at her. ‘You OK, doll?’

Not stopping to waste her breath on asking him for the umpteenth time not to call her “doll”, Beth did her best to ignore the twinkle in Harrison’s eye that confirmed he found the situation hilarious, and settled for being grateful that he hadn’t vocalised his mirth in front of their charges.

‘I’m fine. The snake took me by surprise.’

Beth had no doubt this little episode would be site folklore by dinner time. She didn’t usually care about that sort of thing, and was always one of the first to laugh when she made a fool of herself, but now she found her face darkening with embarrassment in the face of her colleague.

‘Is that all?’ Harrison bent down and retrieved the brush Beth had abandoned in her hurry to move away from the snake. ‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m sure. Just shock. I don’t like snakes. I haven’t damaged anything, I hope.’

‘No harm done.’ Harrison shot Ryan a look which plainly said “this time”, making Beth wonder if the timing of the breaking of the mosaic had gone unnoticed after all. ‘Here you go, doll.’ He gestured to the creature. ‘He’s just a sand snake. Won’t do you any harm. I’ll move him somewhere safe.’

‘Thank you.’ Beth’s words came out rather weakly as the unfortunate creature was picked up and repositioned against a dune of previously excavated sand, into which it quickly disappeared. Seeing Harrison rehome the creature with no more fuss than if he’d moved a worm from a flower bed to a vegetable patch made Beth even more cross with herself for being so feeble in front of a man she’d so badly wanted to impress. She found herself babbling in explanation, ‘Insects I have no problem with. Spiders are cool. But snakes … I can’t stand them.’

This time Harrison did laugh openly, wiping one of his calloused palms across his forehead, smearing dirt into his spiky hair and knocking back his faded Stetson in the process. ‘You’re a regular Indiana Jones, doll!’

Indie

Keen to keep the general atmosphere light, Beth added, ‘Well. As long as I don’t get chased by any oversized boulders or attacked by a tribe of pygmies with blowpipes then I guess I can live with the comparison!’

Taking a hefty swig from her water bottle, she smiled, relieved that her ability to laugh at herself was finally reasserting itself after days of being diminished by the heat.

Harrison grinned as he strolled to his side of the dig. ‘Gotta love that dry English sense of humour, doll.’

Beth called after him, ‘Thanks for the snake removal, Harry.’

He kept walking as he corrected her. ‘Harrison. It’s Harrison, I told you. I don’t like being called Harry.’

She shouted at his retreating back, ‘And I don’t like being referred to as a doll. It makes me sound like a character in an American B-movie! Message received?’

Still laughing, Harrison didn’t look round, but held up a hand as if in defeat. ‘Gotcha, doll! Message received.’

Stepping back into her square, Beth looked at her watch. It wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning, and the heat was already making it feel as if someone was systematically pouring paint stripper across her shoulders. She could hear her students chatting happily as they worked. All except for Ryan, who was unusually quiet.

Beth sighed as she recalled Harrison’s glare towards Ryan, and realised it wasn’t just her rationale she’d left in the colder climate of home, but her common sense as well. It was time to come clean about how Ryan had messed up the mosaic and, more importantly, why she hadn’t reported the incident straight away.

Her decision made, Beth’s hands returned to working the ground, while her imagination speculated how it might have felt if Harrison had been the one she’d accidently sat on. Would I have wanted to get up quite so quickly? Her pussy twitched as if in confirmation, as her green eyes studied the Roman drain …

Digging Deep is available as a download or a paperback from all good retailers, including-

Amazon US link- http://www.amazon.com/Digging-Deep-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00AY1J0OM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1357654446&sr=8-1&keywords=digging+deep+kay+jaybee

Amazon UK link- http://www.amazon.co.uk/Digging-Deep-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00AY1J0OM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1357654789&sr=8-1

Happy reading!!

Kay xx

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FREE READ-Chapter 1- Not Her Type

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July 5  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance, News  |   Kay Jaybee

Hello everyone. I’m rushed off my feet at the moment (Book tour with my Jenny Kane side). I thought I’d leave you a little something to read while I was away…

Happy reading…

Free Read – Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures of a Delivery Man

(copyright- Kay Jaybee and 1001NightsPress)

Young couple, isolated on grey background

 

Chapter 1

Tuesday – It Begins

What the hell am I doing? I’m a good girl; I just don’t do things like this.

A tiny fraction of Jenny’s conscience screamed at her. The remainder of her brain sent her hands on a thorough exploration of the densely haired chest that had unexpectedly appeared from beneath her companion’s polo-shirt. The fact that Jenny had never liked men with hairy chests seemed irrelevant.

Standing in front of her, diving a hand under Jenny’s top, John squeezed her left nipple hard, wonderfully hard, making her squeal with pain-tingling gratification. Removing her shirt at top speed, John freed her breasts from their confinement.

Moving as if on auto-pilot, Jenny’s fingers visited his trousers’ waistband, but in her haste she couldn’t get his belt undone. Rescuing her from her embarrassment with a smile, John mumbled something about it always being difficult to open and undid it himself. Jenny barely heard him as a neat pair of charcoal grey boxers appeared, swiftly followed by—Oh My God—the most beautiful dick she had seen in years, perhaps ever.

As she knelt before him, the voice in Jenny’s head continued its rant, reminding her that she hated giving blowjobs. Since her first experience as a college student, she had neither liked the taste of cock, nor the sensation of being gagged. Now however, working on instincts she never knew she had, Jenny took John deep within her throat. She felt his fingers drag urgently through her knotty, brown hair, raking her scalp as she greedily worked him around her mouth.

Sexy - hands on back

“Hell girl, have you any idea how often I’ve dreamt of you doing this?” John confessed. “Night after night I wank about you, about you holding me in your throat like this.”

Jenny was consumed with a perverse pride as she listened to John’s words—making her wonder if she should admit to the stolen moments she’d spent alone with a silver vibrator and her own filthy imaginings. Imaginings contrary to her normal fantasies; fantasies that often featured him.

His penis felt fantastic in her mouth, but the restless ache in Jenny’s pussy was becoming unbearable, and she pulled away, panting. The instant she let go of his shaft, John tugged her back to her feet and grasped her butt, kneading it in a way that would give her bruises for days to come, while kissing her as if his life depended on it.

Conveniently forgetting that she didn’t like the feel of stubble against her skin, Jenny relished the burn of his unshaven face grazing her, scraping her cheeks as their lips and teeth clashed together.

Her head buzzed, and her nipples were tickled by his chest hairs, and Jenny began to feel as if she were overdosing on desire. She badly wanted to slow everything down but, at the same time, she needed to go faster. She wasn’t far from climax, and the mere idea of their illicit situation was enough to send Jenny to the very edge of orgasm.

Recognizing how close she was, John shoved his customer’s knickers unceremoniously to her ankles. “I want to see you on your hands and knees,” he ordered.

Sinking against the carpet as instructed, Jenny’s breathing snagged as she heard the sharp rip of a condom packet being opened. Seconds later, Jenny found her courier’s thick cock sliding into her from behind. She was about to tell him how fantastically full she felt when John wiped all coherent thought from Jenny’s head by jamming his thumb up her arse.

Nuzzling his mouth against Jenny’s neck, John thrust against her, holding her hips as they frantically moved together. Trembling, Jenny’s knees began to buckle, and her elbows quaked. Seeing she was about to collapse to the floor, John eased out of her body, and flipped her onto her back, before plunging his dick inside her again. She clung onto his tattooed arms (ignoring her lifelong aversion to body art), relishing in the glorious warmth of her orgasm, as he shot his spunk into her naked body.

As soon as their breathing levels returned to normal, John knelt close to Jenny, teasing out the springy curls of her hair as he spoke, “I’m sorry Jen. I don’t like just walking out on you, but I have to go. I’m behind with my rounds.” Jenny watched her courier dress with lightning speed, leaving in a flurry of promises and assurances that he’d return the following week.

Not Her Type Brit Babe Rating

Not Her Type Brit Babe Rating

The living room seemed so large, so empty once John’s bulky frame had gone. Stunned and disheveled, Jenny stared at the space around her as delayed shock kicked in. How the hell had that happened?

 It had been years since Jenny had had sex. Twelve years, in fact; if you discounted one brief and unsatisfactory encounter that occurred three years ago. That was four thousand, three hundred, and eighty days of a self-imposed embargo after one-too-many broken hearts. She had survived by surrounding herself with friends, reading hundreds of erotica books, and giving in to countless masturbation sessions. But now, out of nowhere, right in the middle of her lounge,  , when she should have been sitting at her little desk checking other peoples’ accounts, she’d been thoroughly and expertly fucked.

Standing perfectly motionless, and very aware of her pulse pounding against her chest in the eerie quiet, Jenny tried to figure out what on earth had just happened. How their usual coffee break, with each of them sitting on either side of her dining table, had developed into a semi-naked romp on the sofa.

John had been in her home for only thirty minutes, and twenty of those had been spent discussing the DVDs that he’d come to deliver, just as he did every Tuesday. Then, he’d said something about how much he enjoyed their weekly chats, how hers was the only home where he was received as a friend, and how he always felt strange leaving her without so much as a hug.

Thinking back, trying to make sense of it all, Jenny thought that perhaps she’d laughed nervously when he’d said that, and told him she’d liked their “putting the world to rights” time as well.

That was when he’d actually hugged her for real, and she’d looked up into his wide, dark brown eyes and, in all of her thirty-three years, she had never felt a twist of lust like the one she felt then. It had burnt into her like some sort of erotic radiation.

How did I not see that coming? How bloody naive have I become? Jenny wondered. Shit, I don’t even know if he’s single…It’s been so long since I had a quick fuck. Too long…Hell, now I want another one, and soon. Damn.

Running upstairs to her bedroom, Jenny stripped off her hastily donned clothes and stared critically into the full-length mirror. Do I look different? No, my arms are still a touch too flabby, my backside a little too big, and my skin too pale.

She felt different though. A bit like the girl she used to be, when she’d been a student. When she’d been braver.

As Jenny carried on staring at her reflection, she allowed her hands to trace the outline of her body, a body that was already infused with the heady aftershocks of being totally seen to. Flashbacks of her past assailed her. Things she’d consigned to the back of her mind and nailed up into a little box, never to be opened again—parts of her life that she had long since given up on.

Losing all concept of time as she stood there, naked, still able to feel the mark of his fingers on her flesh, Jenny shook her head, trying to dismiss the memories that her body’s unscheduled reawakening had brought to the surface. She wondered just how many customers John had seduced with those dangerous eyes. How many other sets of fingertips had tripped lightly over the Japanese-styled characters tattooed on his muscular arms?

“Let’s face it,” she spoke sternly to her reflection, “that was just a one-off. Next week he’ll just want a quick coffee as usual.” Doing her best to pull herself together, Jenny unhooked her wrap from the back of her bedroom door. Heading to the shower, her wits were a tattered mass of contradictions—the elation she felt from the astounding sex was at odds with the very clear proclamation that was niggling at the back of her head. Jenny honey, he just isn’t your type. He isn’t even close!

If you want to know what happens next (and I can promise you one hell of a kinky ride), you can buy Not Her Type in either eBook or paperback form from….

Links-

Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-ebook/dp/B00C8PDEE4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365345730&sr=8-1&keywords=Not+Her+TYpe+kay+jaybee 

Amazon.com – http://www.amazon.com/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-ebook/dp/B00C8PDEE4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365345892&sr=8-1&keywords=Not+Her+Type+kay+jaybee

1001 NightsPress- http://1001nightspress.com/#!/page_KayJaybee

Happy Reading!!

Kay

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Release Blitz: Damned If You Do by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai)

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May 9  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

Out Now—Damned If You Do by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #bdsm #eroticromance #lisabetsarai #bondage #discipline #dominance #submission  #sextoys #buttplug #faust #author #demon #pnr

(Excessica, 2017-Paranormal BDSM erotic romance (Five flames)-approximately 29,000- words- HEA ending)

Blurb

Wendy Dennison is tired of being a starving author. The royalties from her critically acclaimed romance novels barely pay her bills. Her devoted agent Daniel Rochester may be smart and sexy, but he can’t get her the sales she needs. Then a charismatic stranger appears at her coffee shop table, promising her fame and commercial success, as well as the chance to live out her dreams of erotic submission. But at what cost?

Nothing you can’t afford to lose, my dear.

Seduced by the enigmatic Mister B, she signs his infernal contract. He becomes both her Master and her coach, managing her suddenly flourishing career as well as encouraging her lusts. Under her mentor’s nefarious influence, she surrenders to temptation and has sex with Daniel. The casual encounter turns serious when she discovers her mild mannered agent has a dominant side. As the clock ticks down to her blockbuster release and Mister B prepares to claim her soul, Wendy must choose either celebrity and wealth, or obscurity and true love.  

Quotes

“Lisabet Sarai writes the most beautiful erotic prose. Her stories tease at the senses and transport you to a world of sexual pleasure.” ~ Desiree Holt, queen of BDSM erotic romance and author of Forward Pass

“I’ve always been a fan—Lisabet Sarai’s erotic fiction is certain to captivate, dominate, and leave readers begging for more.” ~ Alison Tyler, best-selling author of erotic BDSM memoirs Dark Secret Love and Even Deeper.

 

Buy Links (Ebook and Print)

Amazon US:  http://amzn.to/2pT31HP

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2pEb3Uf

Barnes & Noble:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/damned-if-you-do-lisabet-sarai/1126292735?ean=2940157395711

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/damned-if-you-do-10

Excessica: https://goo.gl/dZN3dr

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35009284-damned-if-you-do

(Other booksellers coming soon.)

About Lisabet

LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

***

Excerpt 1: X-rated

 The smoke-tinted windows created a perpetual twilight within the vehicle. An equally dark barrier separated the spacious back seat from the driver in front. No one could see the lewd manner in which Mister B dragged her shirt up to her armpits and her bra down to her waist, exposing her ample breasts. When he twisted her nipple with impeccably manicured fingers, lust poured through her, as though he’d opened a spigot. Her pussy overflowed to further drench her already-sodden panties. She squirmed on the slick seat, hungry for stimulation.

 

Without releasing her breast, he rubbed two fingers along the damp seam of her jeans. Wendy couldn’t suppress a desperate moan. He chuckled as he sniffed his fingertips. “Your fragrance is exquisite, my dear.” Cupping her pubis, he ground the heel of his hand against her clit while his fingers beat out a frustrating rhythm against the tightly stretched denim between her thighs.

She hadn’t been this turned on in months—no, years. The substantial bulge at his fly told her he was also aroused, but somehow she didn’t dare touch him. Though he had yet to give her any orders, he had made it clear she had to obey him if she wanted to reap the benefits of this strange arrangement.

Meanwhile, an odd passivity had taken her over. He’d told her not to think, but only to feel. Her rational self, the part that screamed warnings about engaging in sexual trysts with total strangers, had retreated to some distant corner of her mind, leaving only a hunger to be touched, a craving to be filled, a shameful desire to be used and even abused.    

“I know what you want, Gwen. What you truly need. I’ve read all your stories of implacable masters and eager slaves. But you never go all the way in your tales, do you? You don’t dare show the world the true depths of your depravity.”

His words inflamed her almost as much as his actions.

“I—oh!” He ripped open her fly and forced his hand down the front of her jeans, under the elastic of her underwear, into her soaked and swollen cunt. His fingers were like tongues of flame as they probed her cleft and teased her clit. “Oh, please…I can’t bear it…”

As quickly as they’d arrived, his fingers were gone, leaving her empty and aching. She gazed at him in a state of horny disbelief as he used a monogrammed hankie from his breast pocket to clean her juices from his elegant hands. “I shall decide what you must bear, my sweet little slave. Now I believe we’ve arrived at your abode, where we can explore this question further. You should fix your clothing.”

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Delivering Romance with Kink- Not Her Type

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April 16  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance, News  |   Kay Jaybee

I will let you into a secret- Not Her Type is a love story!!!

Shush…don’t tell anyone. Kay Jaybee- writing a love story!! My reputation as a producer of bondage smut will be forever dented!!

Fear not however, for throughout the c.28,000 words of this novella, S&M sits hand in glove with the underlying romantic streak. For this is a love story that neither Jenny nor John see coming- or indeed wanted- at first at least…

 

Based on the theory that opposite attract, Not Her Type begins at the dawn of a seemingly impossible and unlikely alliance between Jenny (a ridiculously over-educated accountant, who hates reality TV, and always reads the book before seeing the film) and John (her courier, who has no education at all, and only reads if someone points a gun to his head).

Thrown together by an unexpectedly mutual lust, it is on their third meeting, during a mid-fuck sharing of fantasies, that Jenny confesses to John that, despite their extensive differences, they have something very important in common – they both (usually), prefer women.

Jenny let out a strangled whine, as much from the sensation of being so wonderfully full as from the irritation of having to wait to hear about his dream. An accompanying moan almost simultaneously escaped from John, as she gripped her pelvic muscles around his cock, holding and releasing him over and over again until she couldn’t wait any longer. “You’ve always wanted to what?”

John grinned wickedly, but said no more as he grabbed Jenny’s waist with one hand, thrusting faster, and snaked his other hand down between her legs to massage her nub. Now it was Jenny’s turn to lose her focus. Her film courier could have told her anything at all, and she would have been totally oblivious to what he’d said, as vivid red and orange bubbles of colour burst inside her head.

Shaking with the astonishing intensity of her orgasm, Jenny held onto him tight, digging her fingers into the ink-scarred arms.

She felt the shudder of John’s body as he threw his head back and came inside her. Wiping tangled hair from Jenny’s eyes, John eased himself away from her glowing body. At last he spoke, “I’ve got this picture in my head. I simply can’t shift it.”

“A picture of…?”

“Of you, and me, and…” He paused again, as if trying to decide if he should go on.

Jenny’s pulse-rate hit epidemic proportions. What the hell could be so outlandish that he’s struggling to tell me? Does he think I’ll run a mile or throw him out the house or something? “And…?” It was increasingly difficult to keep the frustration from her voice.

He took an audibly deep breath, “Of you, and me, and another woman.”

It took all her effort not to laugh. All that hesitation for such a standard bloke’s fantasy. But rather than mock, Jenny began to visualize the scene he was suggesting. Is this something he wants us to fantasize about together? Or something he actually wants us to do for real? As she studied her new lover closely, a buzz of excitement rose within her. Is he serious?

“Well?” For the first time since she’d met John he had a trace of uncertainty in his tone, and his confident eyes dipped and failed to meet hers.

So, he is serious. Moving closer to his naked body, placing both her palms flat on his chest, Jenny whispered into his ear, “You find her and I’ll do it.”

Never would Jenny forget the stunned look on John’s face as he spluttered, “What? Really?”

“Sure,” a knot of exhilaration gathered in her chest, and Jenny trailed her fingers lower, lightly twisting the hairs on his chest together in small clumps. “Anyway, it wouldn’t exactly be my first time with a woman.”

“It wouldn’t?!”

“No honey. It wouldn’t.”

A self-confessed nightmare when it comes to relationships, John warns Jenny that he can’t offer her more than occasional sex- yet, there is something about his favourite customer that keeps John coming back again and again – not least because this girl is kinky and then some!! It seems there is nothing Jenny isn’t prepared to do for John- every fantasy he has ever had is suddenly waiting for him to explore…

***

Do they live happily ever after? Do Jenny and John walk off into the sunset dancing and singing as if they were in some sickly movie? As if I’m going to tell you that!!


Buy links…

Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-ebook/dp/B00C8PDEE4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365345730&sr=8-1&keywords=Not+Her+TYpe+kay+jaybee

Amazon.com – http://www.amazon.com/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-ebook/dp/B00C8PDEE4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365345892&sr=8-1&keywords=Not+Her+Type+kay+jaybee

Happy reading everyone!!

Kay xxx

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Hitting 200…

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March 4  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance, News  |   Kay Jaybee

Believe it or not, this month I am celebrating my 200th publication! Whether long or short, flash fiction, poem, or novel, romance, erotica, or crime, every single piece of writing that I’ve managed to find a publisher for feels as much as a miracle now as it did when I began to write 12 years ago.

That 200th story was my recent novella release, Wednesday on Thursday.

Wednesday on Thursday

Although I’ve written 12 novels and 9 novellas as Kay Jaybee, Jenny Kane or Jennifer Ash, if it wasn’t for the short story trade I’d have never have written any of them.

Before I even dared to try and write something longer than 5,000 words, I’d had 40 short stories and poems published. I’m so glad that’s what I did. Writing those early stories taught me so much. They were my apprenticeship; a place where I learnt that every word in every single sentence counts.

Sexy Just Walked Into Town

If you’d like to read a few of those short stories, then why not check out The Best of Kay Jaybee.

Blurb-

Fourteen of the very best erotic tales of dominance, submission, bondage, and romantic lust, are delivered with lashings of kink from the pen of Kay Jaybee. From the sexual adventures recalled by a woman as she stares at her favourite shirt, to a deliciously dirty orgy on a bed of cardboard boxes, the after-hours education of a rookie soldier, and the bizarre obsession of an Egyptologist, each story shows why Kay Jaybee has been hailed as ‘a master of the craft of erotica’ (Oysters and Chocolate). As a girl writes messages of lust on the body of her best friend’s lover, and a mistress’s employment of ropes and chains on her slave co-insides with the application of emulsion, we discover just how Kay has earned her reputation for producing ‘super-heated kinky stories,’ (Kd Grace), which are ‘a sublime pleasure to read’ (Violet Blue). 

The stories tucked inside The Best of Kay Jaybee come from the Xcite anthologies I’ve had work included in since 2008, (such as Maggie, The Basic Rules of Anal Sex, and The Fuck-Me Cabbie),  as well as my three solo Xcite collections, Quick Kink One (The Shirt), Quick Kink Two (The Bride wore Rubber) and Yes Ma’am (Lying in Wait).

As you’d expect from me, there are a fair number of dominance and submission related stories included in this anthology, but there is also a heap of romantic lust, explored fantasies, and happy kinky threesome play.

If you’ve never read any of my work before, then The Best of Kay Jaybee is a great place to start.

Here’s a little taster from…

The Fuck-Me Cabbie

‘That’s him over there.’

‘The one stood on his own? Brown hair, tight jeans, cute arse?’

‘That’s him.’

‘Does he have a name?’ I put my drink down onto the sticky plastic topped table before us, not taking my eyes from the back view of the man leaning against the bar.

‘Well, the men call him Mr Greedy?’

‘And the women?’

My friend smiled at my expression, she knew me very well.  ‘They call him the Fuck-Me Cabbie.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yes.’ The satisfied lilt to Jenny’s voice made me drag my eyes away from the self- styled Adonis at the bar, to the air of happy memory plastered across her face. ‘He claims to have had sex with nearly every female passenger he’s carried in his taxi between the ages of 18 and 50.’

‘Is that so?’ I picked my Cola up and took a long thoughtful draft as I rocked back on my chair.

‘So he says.’

‘And you believe him?’

Jenny said nothing, but her smirk spoke volumes as she peered at me over the top of her glasses.

‘And was it worth it? Is he that good in reality, or is it all arrogant attitude?’

‘I can’t argue with the arrogant bit, but the man’s bloody hot. Annoying; but true.’

Running a finger around the rim of my empty glass, my eyes returned to the cabbie, mentally willing him to twist round so I could get a proper look at his face. As if picking up on my mute signal, he turned, a pint glass in his hand, and stared directly at me. Unashamedly, I stared back.

It was his eyes that struck me most. They screamed non-stop endless desire; a desire which would somehow never be satisfied. The square cut to his chin and his bulky, yet toned frame, simply bellowed sex, as if a neon sign was permanently flashing above his head saying “Get it here- NOW.”

The other signal he gave out, perhaps even stronger than the aura of lust, was conceit. He’d been told once too often that he was good in the sack. This cabbie needed taking down a peg or two.

‘Go and talk to him.’

Jenny’s eyes flickered at me mischievously, ‘what are you thinking?’

‘He needs cutting down to size.’

‘How?’

‘You’ll see.’ I kept eye contact with him. He didn’t need to say anything to let me know what he was thinking. ‘I want you to tell him there is a threesome on offer. Do not tell him who’ll be involved, but feel free to let him make his own assumptions. It’s not our fault if he jumps to the wrong conclusion is it.’

Jenny looked momentarily disappointed, ‘Won’t it be us?’

I couldn’t help but smile at her. Jenny’s neat chest had been poking at the flimsy covering of her t-shirt and bra ever since we’d started discussing the taxi driver.

‘Of course it will be us. But it might not be him…are you game?’

‘I’m game. Tell me.’

Pointedly ignoring the cabbie, I shifted our chairs closer together so that no one could overhear what I was about to divest to my companion.

Regarding me with renewed interest, Jenny was obviously eager to get our plotting underway immediately, but was still a little unsure about my plan, which I had to admit, was a bit complicated. ‘Do you think he’ll go for it? He’s not known for sleeping with a woman more than once. No return fares as it were.’

‘I’m sure you could lay it on strong. After all, he’s had you, but not me. You’re a beautiful woman honey, use that to our advantage. Sod feminism for once! Paint him a picture he can’t refuse. Tell him about our casual relationship, and I’ll see you and him at the back of the car park in an hour. And don’t forget to switch your phone to vibrate.’

Jenny stood up, readying herself to approach our quarry, her short floaty skirt swaying suggestively around her long legs. I re-focused my blue eyes onto the cabbie’s gaze, communicating what I hoped was an expression of mutual understanding. Then, with a deliberately seductive glance at Jenny, I trailed a polished fingernail down her pale neck, with the intention of planting the idea of all three of us being together firmly in his mind…

****

Buy Links-

Amazon UK- http://www.amazon.co.uk/Best-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B009YYRM3Q/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1352239489&sr=1-2

Amazon US- http://www.amazon.com/Best-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B009YYRM3Q/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1352239753&sr=1-1&keywords=best+of+kay+jaybee

***

I never dreamt I’d still be writing 200 stories after that very first one – a short tale called ‘Jen and Tim’ which was published in an anthology called Lips Like Sugar (Cleis Press). I certainly didn’t think I’d be living under 3 pen names! Nor did I think I’d be teaching creative writing- and yet here I am doing all those things! (You can check out my workshop business here)

Thank you to all of you for buying enough of my books to keep me going for so long!

Kay xx

 

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