threesome

Smut Sunday: List thinking with The Voyeur

2 Comments
April 23  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

Delighted to be taking part in this week’s Smut Sunday! Don’t forget to check out all the blogs taking part by following this link- http://smutnights.co.uk/smut-sunday/


The idea for my BDSM erotic romance novel, The Voyeur, saw its first glimmer of light back in 2007, when I wrote a two part story called Fantasy 13, for the excellent , now sadly extinct, erotica web site Oysters and Chocolate. These full-on BDSM parallel adventures, both set in the ‘Discreet’ S&M club, were subtitled Clara’s Story and Anna’s Story (now Anya)- and now form the backbone of Chapters One and Two of The Voyeur.

voyeur-new-cover-2013

As anyone who has read my work will know, I love writing BDSM stories, and for some time prior to penning the mini- series Fantasy 13, I’d toyed with the idea of setting a piece within a specialist club, which I’d decided to paradoxically entitle, Discreet. The only thing holding me back was that I was at a loss for an original story angle.

About the same time, I was sat in a café (as ever!), covertly people watching. A woman about my age was frantically scribbling down a list. I assumed it was a shopping list; but then I began to wonder- what if it wasn’t? What if it was something more interesting? Maybe it was a list of all the things she wished her husband, lover or girlfriend would do to, or with, her?

There was no stopping my imagination once I’d had that thought. Within the hour I had created Mark, a businessman who kept a secret notebook in which to compile all his darkest desires.  He doesn’t necessarily want to take part in any of these fantasies- he just wants to see them take place in front of him.  The ultimate voyeur!

So, you could say that The Voyeur was originally a mixture of ideas gleaned from my long standing desire to write a story set in a sex club, and observing a woman jot down a shopping list in a café!

collar

***

Extract from The Voyeur

His evening meal complete, Mark sat back, contentedly sipping his cup of strong black coffee. Pulling a small, battered notebook from his pocket, he read thoughtfully for a moment. His self-restraint, although immense, was beginning to run out. It was time for them to progress to the end of the list. Pressing the intercom button, Mark summoned his personal assistant, Anya, and his housekeeper, Clara, to the dining room.

The women arrived swiftly, both aware of the importance of not keeping Mark waiting. Standing on the opposite side of the highly polished dining room table, his employees braced themselves for the coming instructions.

‘I have decided that we will take a trip to Discreet this evening. We will turn our attention to the next fantasy on my list. Fantasy 12.’ Mark’s cool blue eyes deliberately weighed up the reaction of his staff as he delivered his news.

Discreet was the reason that Mark spent such a large proportion of his time in his London flat, rather than in his mini-mansion in Oxfordshire, where his software business was based. It was only at Discreet, the most exclusive of the city’s BDSM clubs, that his increasingly imaginative fantasies could be publically appreciated; most of which involved the observation of other people’s erotic aspirations. Mark Parker was the ultimate voyeur.

Trying hard not to exchange glances with her colleague, Anya could sense the stiffening of Clara’s body as they listened to their boss. She knew that Clara’s mind, like her own, would already be racing; madly trying to guess what Mark’s latest erotic scenario would involve. Having survived fantasies one to eleven, they already understood the nature of the challenges they were likely to experience during the evening that loomed ominously ahead.

‘Anya, you will be less delighted than Clara, perhaps, when I tell you that this trip is intended as a lesson for you; possibly a punishment.’

Forgetting herself for a second, the PA lifted her head and stared Mark squarely in the face.

His lips smiled; his eyes, however, did not. ‘You wonder why? Why, when you are forever questioning my instructions?’

‘But Mark, I …’ Anya stopped talking, aware that by asking why she was simply proving his point. She could feel her nipples hardening beneath her white shirt, as her employer continued to stare at her.

‘Oh my dear Anya, you may never question me out loud.’ Mark’s voice was velvety soft, yet the potential danger of disagreeing with him shone in his eyes. ‘But I know that you constantly query my actions by your reaction to them. Subconscious or not, it has to stop.’

Anya couldn’t believe it; she had always been so dutiful. The perfect assistant. The willing slave. How could Mark know she privately questioned her existence; her choice at being here with him and Clara, living this less than “ordinary” existence?

Clara was hovering uncomfortably next to Anya as Mark came closer. ‘Tonight,’ he said, pulling off Anya’s shirt and bra, exposing her luscious chest to the cool of the room, ‘you will both face a combination of experiences that together make up Fantasy 12. Won’t it be lovely to be able to tick another task from our list, girls?’

They didn’t answer; experience had taught them that nine times out of ten his questions were rhetorical.

red-tick

Mark twisted the women round; removing Clara’s top as he did so, so he could see both his employees’ bare backs. There, in neat script, a permanent pen had been used to write “Fantasy 1”, “Fantasy 2” and so on, all the way down – the numbers following the length of their spines, finishing with the words “Fantasy 13”. The first 11 rows of black lettering had bright red ticks next to them.

‘Only two more tasks to go.’

This time the girls risked a fleeting glance at each other, exchanging a look of mutual blood-hammering exhilaration twinned with an erotic anticipation it would have been hypocritical to deny.

Mark, during his brief periods of leisure, had painstakingly detailed many lust-driven scenarios he wished to both direct and bring to life. He often wrote notes, accompanied by intricate diagrams of erotic, slightly disturbing, but ultimately satisfying fantasies, in a leather-bound journal that only he was allowed to read.

Anya and Clara knew that the final fantasy, when it came, would be both more difficult and different to anything they’d ever previous experienced. They feared it. They also longed for it. Mark was a clever man, for as each new task unfolded he pushed his faithful staff along with him, darkening their desires and needs closer and closer to his own. Making them as keen as he was to see how far they could go. To see how much they could physically take as they accompanied Mark on his journey of extreme sexual sightseeing.

A cold, clammy sheen of perspiration broke out on Anya’s face, arms, and breasts as Mark danced a finger across her skin. ‘You will both go to your room and change into the clothes I’ve placed upon your beds. You will remain there until I call you.’ Mark pointed to the door, and his employees headed to their small, twin-bedded room without a sound.

As she considered some of the things she and Clara had been required to do over the last six months, Anya privately reassured herself that the trepidation shooting down her spine was understandable and acceptable. It was also irrational, for she knew that Fantasy 12 might not only be tolerable, but enjoyable; and that just because the end of the list was in sight, it didn’t mean the night ahead would involve anything worse than she’d survived before. She could handle this. They both could – no problem.

Then Anya saw her outfit.

Her bed supported nothing but a leather dog collar…

***

You can buy The Voyeur in paperback or as a download from all good retailers, including-

Amazon UK- http://www.amazon.co.uk/Voyeur-Kay-Jaybee/dp/1908917873/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1355920127&sr=1-1

Amazon.com – http://www.amazon.com/The-Voyeur-Kay-Jaybee/dp/1908917873/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365506289&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Voyeur+kay+jaybee

You can also buy The Voyeur as part of The Collard Collection, which also includes Kd Grace’s brilliant novel, The Pet Shop.

collared-bundle

Buy links – http://mybook.to/collaredcollection 

Happy Sunday Smut reading everyone,

Kay xx

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Wednesday on Thursday: The Inspiration

2 Comments
February 3  |  BDSM, eBooks, erotic romance, News  |   Kay Jaybee

One of the most frequently asked questions levelled at a writer is, “Where do you get your ideas from?”

Only yesterday a friend of mine asked me that very question in relation to my new novella, Wednesday on Thursday (OUT NOW). She also asked me when I’d be writing a sequel called Thursday on Friday!

Like all authors, I get my inspiration from everywhere and anywhere- and it doesn’t always wait patiently to be invited into my imagination. Often it rudely trespasses across my mind, shoving aside the plotlines I’m already working on, with the audacity to declare that it needs writing up right now!

The queue of ideas in my head from unexpected explosions of inspiration is incredibly long. As a consequence, it was over a year after I’d had the initial idea for Wednesday on Thursday before I had the chance to scribble down a rough plot outline. It was another six months after that when I had time to begin to write this story of words, sex and coffee.

And the initial inspiration… there was a man sat in the corner of my local coffee shop. He had a very particular sort of smile on his face as he bent over his newspaper; an espresso in one hand, and a pen in the other. I didn’t know him, but there was something about him that screamed out loud and clear that his mind was full of images that had nothing at all to do with the newspaper crossword he’d started to do.

His expression, the strong smell of coffee and the partly completed crossword started something snowballing in my imagination…Frankly, words turn me on. Intelligence turns me on more…and a nice smile…well…I risked a covert glance at his eyes…

That was that- I had found my hero for Wednesday on Thursday. I still have no idea how I didn’t sit down and start writing the story there and then- must have been the novel deadline I had looming! I also have no idea how I kept my eyes off him for the rest of the morning…Okay…so maybe I didn’t!

Wednesday on Thursday

Blurb

There are rumours that the coffee guy has “a thing” about words.

Shrugging off her friend’s concern about the way the man in the cafe stares at her every lunch hour, Wednesday can’t see how his love of words could possibly be hazardous.

The fact is, Wednesday rather enjoys being the centre of an attractive man’s undivided attention. His dark blue eyes alone have provided her with many delicious erotic fantasies, a welcome distraction from the pressures of the real world and a dull job.

It’s totally harmless…

…until there’s an accident with a cup of coffee.

After soaking Wednesday with a hot latte, the coffee guy’s attention suddenly becomes far more enticing—and dangerous.

Drawn into a bizarre world of human behavioural research, where crosswords are used to initiate sexual experiments, Wednesday finds herself driven, not by a desire to further scientific research, but by the need to be rewarded for her hard work by the coffee guy’s captivating research assistant.

A stunning redhead by the name of Thursday…

***

Buy Links

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Wednesday-Thursday-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B01N5SOMT0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1485329803&sr=8-1&keywords=Wednesday+on+Thursday+Kay+Jaybee

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N5SOMT0?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

Extract from Wednesday on Thursday

… Wednesday had selected her clothes with more care than usual. She told herself she was wearing her best underwear because it gave her more confidence. It was absolutely not because she’d spent a largely sleepless night dreaming of the coffee guy’s expression as he ran his shrewd gaze over her jet black satin bra with matching knickers.

With one extra button open on her shirt, Wednesday left her flat, raking her hand restlessly through her long chestnut hair. She kept telling herself that he was just a bloke who got off on the power of making her feel sexy. That was perfectly all right by her, because he clearly had no intention of doing anything beyond titillating her imagination.

Wednesday had experienced her fair share of relationships during her twenty-nine years, but no-one had ever managed to arouse her with a single glance before.

‘For goodness sake, woman, you don’t even know his name!’ Even though she kept trying to talk sense into herself, the four hours until lunchtime couldn’t pass fast enough.

By the time her break finally arrived, Wednesday thought her heart was going to thud right through her chest with nervous tension. Walking into the café, she was more than usually aware of the sound of her heels clattering across the wooden floor.

Wednesday forced herself not to look for him, to just queue up for her latte and toasted sandwich as she always did. Even though she managed to prevent herself from obviously surveying the busy room, she covertly hunted for him nonetheless.

He wasn’t there. A sensation of disappointment gripped her. She felt stupid; humiliated even. But only briefly.

There was an envelope on her regular table.

Sitting down with her food and drink, Wednesday gaped at the cream coloured envelope. Her name was written in clear script across its front.

Wednesday took a soothing sip of her drink as she wondered if the coffee guy was hidden nearby. She had an uneasy feeling that, if he was secretly observing her, he’d be getting off on watching her reactions. Struggling to steady her erratic breathing, Wednesday was more than a little aware that her tits were doing their best to burst through their satin holster.

Exhaling slowly, she opened the envelope.

The words had an instant impact on her internal temperature gauge. Wednesday’s body began to alternate between flushing with heat and shivering with cold, as if she was getting a fever and a chill at the same time.

Dear Wednesday,

Forgive my rudeness for not having properly introduced myself before now.

My name is Lucas.

I will be blunt. I find you fascinating, and would like to make love to you. I would like to say my intentions are honourable, but they are not. They are lust-driven, and I feel it only fair you know that from the start.

If you are interested in knowing more, then please come to the address below once you have consumed your toasted sandwich. If you choose not to visit, then I will leave you in peace from this moment forward.

Whatever your decision, I would prevail upon you to keep this correspondence private.

Flat 1.

56 Chambers Way.

Regards,

L x

P.S. I apologise for the coffee incident. I trust I did not damage you. I will make the sincerity of my regret known to you should you decide to be my guest.

Wednesday didn’t finish her lunch.

Her legs had started taking her in the direction of Chambers Way without bothering to ask the rest of her if it was a good idea or not.

She knew the address.

The building, a private block of flats, was only two hundred metres from the office block where Wednesday had been employed as an administration clerk for the past two years.

Knowing she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t find out what was within Flat 1, with her pulse racing, Wednesday hovered outside a dark green front door.

A door that led to Lucas and whatever he planned to do by way of an apology.

Without allowing herself to think about what she was doing, Wednesday knocked twice…

***

Happy reading!

Kay x

PS. Thursday on Friday does have a sort of ring to it…ummm….

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PRE-ORDER AVAILABLE: Wednesday on Thursday

Comments Off on PRE-ORDER AVAILABLE: Wednesday on Thursday
January 25  |  BDSM, eBooks, erotic romance, News  |   Kay Jaybee

ON 1st FEBRUARY I’LL HAVE A NEW NOVELLA OUT IN E-BOOK LAND!

About time too you might say – and you’d be right. This story has been a long time coming…if you’ll pardon the pun.

PRE-ORDER IS NOW AVAILABLE!

PRE- ORDER HERE-

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Wednesday-Thursday-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B01N5SOMT0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1485329803&sr=8-1&keywords=Wednesday+on+Thursday+Kay+Jaybee

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N5SOMT0?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

So, what’s Wednesday on Thursday all about?

Here’s comes the blurb!

 

Blurb

There are rumours that the coffee guy has “a thing” about words.

Shrugging off her friend’s concern about the way the man in the café stares at her every lunch hour, Wednesday can’t see how his love of words could possibly be hazardous.

The fact is, Wednesday rather enjoys being the centre of an attractive man’s undivided attention. His dark blue eyes alone have provided her with many delicious erotic fantasies, a welcome distraction from the pressures of the real world and a dull job.

It’s totally harmless…

…until there’s an accident with a cup of coffee.

After soaking Wednesday with a hot latte, the coffee guy’s attention suddenly becomes far more enticing—and dangerous.

Drawn into a bizarre world of human behavioural research, where crosswords are used to initiate sexual experiments, Wednesday finds herself driven, not by a desire to further scientific research, but by the need to be rewarded for her hard work by the coffee guy’s captivating research assistant.

A stunning redhead by the name of Thursday…

Happy reading,

Kay x

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Inspiration for The Voyeur

Comments Off on The Inspiration for The Voyeur
October 14  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

The idea for my BDSM erotic romance novel, The Voyeur, saw its first glimmer of light back in 2007, when I wrote a two part story called Fantasy 13, for the excellent , now sadly extinct, erotica web site Oysters and Chocolate. These full-on BDSM parallel adventures, both set in the ‘Discreet’ S&M club, were subtitled Clara’s Story and Anna’s Story (now Anya)- and now form the backbone of Chapters One and Two of The Voyeur.

voyeur-new-cover-2013

As anyone who has read my work will know, I love writing BDSM stories, and for some time prior to penning the mini- series Fantasy 13, I’d toyed with the idea of setting a piece within a specialist club, which I’d decided to paradoxically entitle, Discreet. The only thing holding me back was that I was at a loss for an original story angle.

About the same time, I was sat in a café (as ever!), covertly people watching. A woman about my age was frantically scribbling down a list. I assumed it was a shopping list; but then I began to wonder- what if it wasn’t? What if it was something more interesting? Maybe it was a list of all the things she wished her husband, lover or girlfriend would do to, or with, her?

There was no stopping my imagination once I’d had that thought. Within the hour I had created Mark, a businessman who kept a secret notebook in which to compile all his darkest desires.  He doesn’t necessarily want to take part in any of these fantasies- he just wants to see them take place in front of him.  The ultimate voyeur!

So, you could say that The Voyeur was originally a mixture of ideas gleaned from my long standing desire to write a story set in a sex club, and observing a woman jot down a shopping list in a café!

collar

***

Extract from The Voyeur

His evening meal complete, Mark sat back, contentedly sipping his cup of strong black coffee. Pulling a small, battered notebook from his pocket, he read thoughtfully for a moment. His self-restraint, although immense, was beginning to run out. It was time for them to progress to the end of the list. Pressing the intercom button, Mark summoned his personal assistant, Anya, and his housekeeper, Clara, to the dining room.

The women arrived swiftly, both aware of the importance of not keeping Mark waiting. Standing on the opposite side of the highly polished dining room table, his employees braced themselves for the coming instructions.

‘I have decided that we will take a trip to Discreet this evening. We will turn our attention to the next fantasy on my list. Fantasy 12.’ Mark’s cool blue eyes deliberately weighed up the reaction of his staff as he delivered his news.

Discreet was the reason that Mark spent such a large proportion of his time in his London flat, rather than in his mini-mansion in Oxfordshire, where his software business was based. It was only at Discreet, the most exclusive of the city’s BDSM clubs, that his increasingly imaginative fantasies could be publically appreciated; most of which involved the observation of other people’s erotic aspirations. Mark Parker was the ultimate voyeur.

Trying hard not to exchange glances with her colleague, Anya could sense the stiffening of Clara’s body as they listened to their boss. She knew that Clara’s mind, like her own, would already be racing; madly trying to guess what Mark’s latest erotic scenario would involve. Having survived fantasies one to eleven, they already understood the nature of the challenges they were likely to experience during the evening that loomed ominously ahead.

‘Anya, you will be less delighted than Clara, perhaps, when I tell you that this trip is intended as a lesson for you; possibly a punishment.’

Forgetting herself for a second, the PA lifted her head and stared Mark squarely in the face.

His lips smiled; his eyes, however, did not. ‘You wonder why? Why, when you are forever questioning my instructions?’

‘But Mark, I …’ Anya stopped talking, aware that by asking why she was simply proving his point. She could feel her nipples hardening beneath her white shirt, as her employer continued to stare at her.

‘Oh my dear Anya, you may never question me out loud.’ Mark’s voice was velvety soft, yet the potential danger of disagreeing with him shone in his eyes. ‘But I know that you constantly query my actions by your reaction to them. Subconscious or not, it has to stop.’

Anya couldn’t believe it; she had always been so dutiful. The perfect assistant. The willing slave. How could Mark know she privately questioned her existence; her choice at being here with him and Clara, living this less than “ordinary” existence?

Clara was hovering uncomfortably next to Anya as Mark came closer. ‘Tonight,’ he said, pulling off Anya’s shirt and bra, exposing her luscious chest to the cool of the room, ‘you will both face a combination of experiences that together make up Fantasy 12. Won’t it be lovely to be able to tick another task from our list, girls?’

They didn’t answer; experience had taught them that nine times out of ten his questions were rhetorical.

red-tick

Mark twisted the women round; removing Clara’s top as he did so, so he could see both his employees’ bare backs. There, in neat script, a permanent pen had been used to write “Fantasy 1”, “Fantasy 2” and so on, all the way down – the numbers following the length of their spines, finishing with the words “Fantasy 13”. The first 11 rows of black lettering had bright red ticks next to them.

‘Only two more tasks to go.’

This time the girls risked a fleeting glance at each other, exchanging a look of mutual blood-hammering exhilaration twinned with an erotic anticipation it would have been hypocritical to deny.

Mark, during his brief periods of leisure, had painstakingly detailed many lust-driven scenarios he wished to both direct and bring to life. He often wrote notes, accompanied by intricate diagrams of erotic, slightly disturbing, but ultimately satisfying fantasies, in a leather-bound journal that only he was allowed to read.

Anya and Clara knew that the final fantasy, when it came, would be both more difficult and different to anything they’d ever previous experienced. They feared it. They also longed for it. Mark was a clever man, for as each new task unfolded he pushed his faithful staff along with him, darkening their desires and needs closer and closer to his own. Making them as keen as he was to see how far they could go. To see how much they could physically take as they accompanied Mark on his journey of extreme sexual sightseeing.

A cold, clammy sheen of perspiration broke out on Anya’s face, arms, and breasts as Mark danced a finger across her skin. ‘You will both go to your room and change into the clothes I’ve placed upon your beds. You will remain there until I call you.’ Mark pointed to the door, and his employees headed to their small, twin-bedded room without a sound.

As she considered some of the things she and Clara had been required to do over the last six months, Anya privately reassured herself that the trepidation shooting down her spine was understandable and acceptable. It was also irrational, for she knew that Fantasy 12 might not only be tolerable, but enjoyable; and that just because the end of the list was in sight, it didn’t mean the night ahead would involve anything worse than she’d survived before. She could handle this. They both could – no problem.

Then Anya saw her outfit.

Her bed supported nothing but a leather dog collar…

***

You can buy The Voyeur in paperback or as a download from all good retailers, including-

Amazon UK- http://www.amazon.co.uk/Voyeur-Kay-Jaybee/dp/1908917873/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1355920127&sr=1-1

Amazon.com – http://www.amazon.com/The-Voyeur-Kay-Jaybee/dp/1908917873/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365506289&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Voyeur+kay+jaybee

You can also buy The Voyeur as part of The Collard Collection, which also includes Kd Grace’s brilliant novel, The Pet Shop.

collared-bundle

Buy links – http://mybook.to/collaredcollection 

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xx

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Release Blitz and Extract from Lily Harlem: Desk Job

2 Comments
April 8  |  eBooks, erotic romance, News  |   Kay Jaybee

Hot off the press is Lily Harlem’s latest ménage a trois novel based in London, Desk Job. Her London Menage set of books are taking off, the first one Muscling In has received many 5* reviews and Desk Job is set to do the same. Currently working on the third book in this series, Lily says she never believes three is a crowd, and in her opinion more is definitely merrier!

Desk-Job-evernightpublishing-JayAheer2016-finalimage-1

Here’s the low down on Desk Job, which, incidentally, can be enjoyed as a standalone read, these books are only very loosely connected.

Desk Job

It’s just another PA job, right? Okay, the CEO is hot, and his partner hotter, but that doesn’t mean Stella Wright has to fall for their erotic brand of seduction. Does it?

Who is she kidding? Stella is only human, she has bills to pay and insecurities about how she looks the same as we all do. So when Andre Bramon asks her to work on more than just dictation she can’t resist.

Tristan Wainwright is a different matter. Brooding and dark, he barely has time to ask her to do anything. Then when he does finally pause, noticing her, all that pent up energy reaches a boiling point.

Before long Stella is swept up in a passionate love affair with not one man, but two. She never expected a threesome to be part of her job description, though now…well, perhaps it might prove to be the perfect solution to a whole host of her problems.

menage1

Excerpt

“I’m going to apologize in advance for this … but I can’t help myself.”

He ran his hand around the back of my neck, his fingers slotting into my hair, and pulled me closer. He pressed his lips against mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth as he dragged me to him.

I released a groan of longing. He tasted exactly how I’d imagined—dark heat and man, a hint of coffee.

Releasing my grip on the chair, I grasped his shoulders. Beneath his cotton shirt was hard muscle. Damn, why was that shirt in the way?

He moaned into my mouth as he stroked over the top of my stockings, tracing the lace with his fingertips.

He kissed with the same skill and intensity as he approached his work. I surrendered to it. Allowed him to whisk me up into a heady soup of lust.

Could we? Here?

Fuck.

What am I doing?

I tore my lips from his.

He didn’t stop kissing me and traveled his lips over my cheek to my neck.

“Tristan.”

“Mmm, Stella. You’re so sexy. You’ve got me crazy for you. All week … how you look, talk, hell the way you walk…”

“No…” What about Andre? “But.”

“No, buts. Please, no buts.” He cupped my cheek and looked into my eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I pushed at his shoulders and tore my gaze from his. “I can’t.”

He tugged his hand free of my skirt and stood, releasing me. A flash of disappointment went over his face and I couldn’t help noticing a large bulge behind his zipper.

“Forgive me.” I stood, and in a strange, limping gate, rushed to the ladies’ restroom. I pushed through the door, then stood at the sink, staring into the mirror at my smudged lipstick.

My mind was swimming. What the hell was going on with me? I was a one-man woman. I never cheated. I didn’t two-time. That wasn’t who I was.

But Andre and I were hardly in a relationship. We’d had a night of fun. We were going for lunch tomorrow.

It was the start of something.
But I wanted to start something with Tristan too.
I liked him, more than liked him. I wanted him. I wanted his body, I wanted his mind, I wanted the special smiles that he seemed to save just for me.

“Stella. Please, come out.”

I glanced at the door. Tristan had opened it a fraction, though I couldn’t see him and he couldn’t see me because it opened in the opposite direction.

I didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s not your fault.” I reached for a tissue and tidied my  smudged lipstick.

“Clearly it is. Please, come out here and let’s talk this through. I can explain.” “Explain?”

“Yes.”

I ran the cold water and put my wrists under the flow. It was as if a fire were burning inside of me.

“I promise you, Stella, there really is no reason to be so upset.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”
I turned off the water. He knew nothing.

“Please … otherwise I’ll come in there and get you.”

I didn’t doubt it.

I went to the door. As I reached it, my broken shoe emerged around the small opening. The heel appeared reattached.

“I fixed it.”

“That was quick.”

“I’m known for efficiency.”

Of course he is.
I took it and, with one palm placed on the wall, slipped the  shoe back on.

“It probably won’t hold for long. But it will get you home,” he said.

I opened the door fully.

Tristan had one hand against the frame, his elbow locked. When he saw me, he released it and straightened.

“Thank you.” I stepped past him. “For fixing my shoe.”

“Stella, let me explain.” He gripped my upper arm and spun me to him, not roughly but not completely gently either.

My breath hitched as I looked into his earnest face.

“There is nothing to explain, Tristan. I like you, really I do…” And yes, given the chance I’d roll into bed with him in a heartbeat. He was someone I wanted to get to know better in every sense of the word, much better. “But I’m seeing someone.”

His eyebrows twitched, then he nodded. “I know.”

“How … But…?”

“Andre.” He kind of shrugged then released my arm. “It’s not a big deal.”

“How can it not be a big deal? He’s your business partner.” Damn, had Andre told him everything, the way I’d wondered if he had?

“He’s more than a business partner. He’s my best friend. We’ve been through the good and the bad times together and you…”

“Me?”

“We’d definitely like you to be the good times.”

“I’m not following…” I patted my hair, it was messy at the back from where he’d ran his fingers through it. “Why did you kiss me if you knew I was seeing Andre?”

“Because I know he won’t mind, not in the least.”

“How do you know that?” Most blokes I knew would mind very much if another guy kissed the girl they were seeing. “Is he missing the jealousy gene?”

Tristan gave a twisted smile. “Oh no. I can’t imagine he’d want anyone else touching you, kissing you, but me … well that’s different.”

“How? Because you’re friends, because you’re close?”

“That and…”

“And what?”

“Well…” He shifted from one foot to the other. “We decided a while ago that we needed a personal assistant to share, one person who understood what the other was doing so that our diaries and commitments didn’t clash.”

I nodded. I understood that.

“And we also decided…” He hesitated.

I wondered what the hell he was going to say next. I hadn’t known Tristan to be anything other than super confident but he was standing before me now, slowly gathering words. “What did you decide?”

“That not only do we want to share a PA, we also want to share a woman.”

***

To continue reading, please purchase from…

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About Lily Harlem

Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award-winning author of erotic romance. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Pride Publishing, Evernight Publishing, All Romance eBooks, and Sweetmeats Press. Her work regularly receives high praise and industry nominations.

Before turning her hand to writing Lily Harlem worked as a trauma nurse and her latest HarperCollins release, Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse draws on her many experiences while nursing in London. Lily also self-publishes and The Silk Tie, The Glass Knot, In Expert Hands and Scored have been blessed with many 5* reviews since their release.

Lily writes MF, MM and ménage a trois, her books regularly hit the #1 spot on Amazon Best Seller lists and Breathe You In was named a USA Today Reviewer’s Recommended Read of 2014. Her latest MM novel is Dark Warrior.

Lily also co-authors with Natalie Dae and publishes under the name Harlem Dae – check out the Sexy as Hell Trilogy – The Novice, The Player, and The Vixen – and That Filthy Book which has been hailed as a novel ‘every woman should read’.

One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy. Enjoy!

Check out Lily’s website for details of her other books and her Amazon Author Page. Subscribe to her newsletter to be the first to hear of new releases and free reads, and if you enjoy Facebook, hop on over there and say hi!

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