Kay Jaybee

Everyone Needs A Bedtime Story

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Something for the Weekend: Not Her Type

Friday has arrived once more, and it’s time to look forward to some weekend smut.

This week I’m sharing the beginning of my hot delivery man erotica,

Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures of a Delivery Man

(copyright- Kay Jaybee and 1001NightsPress)

Young couple, isolated on grey background

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.

 

“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.

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

Something for the Weekend: Knowing Her Place

Friday has arrived, so it’s time to kick back and read something a little tastier than business reports and balance sheets.

This week I’m sharing an extract from the third and final novel in my ‘The Perfect Submissive’ trilogy – Knowing Her Place.

Blurb:

Full of unanswered questions after her erotic fairytale experience at The Retreat in Scotland, Jess Sanders is desperate to return to her submissive position at the exclusive Fables Hotel in Oxfordshire.

Having been thwarted in his plans to keep Jess, The Retreat’s owner, David Proctor, isn’t willing to let her go without sending the so-called ‘perfect’ submissive on one final mission. Only if Jess succeeds in the task he sets her, will Proctor remove the collar of servitude he has locked around her neck.

With a list of five unfamiliar addresses to hand, Jess is placed in a car and driven away from The Retreat towards England. With no idea of what, or who, awaits her at each location, all Jess can hope for is that the journey will eventually take her back to where she belongs.

To the fifth floor of the Fables Hotel, where Miss Jess Sanders truly knows her place.

***

Here’s an extract from the very beginning of Chapter 1…

Miss Jess Sanders fingered the cream envelope she clutched between her fingers. The paper was damp, its previously crisp edges tattered and limp from where she’d been gripping it so tightly.

Her right hand came to her throat. Gingerly, Jess fingered the black leather collar that spanned her neck.

Every part of her ached.

Sitting in the rear of a very comfortable, chauffeur-driven BMW, Jess couldn’t even face glancing out of the window. The journey from the North East of Scotland to wherever it was she was being taken in England seemed to be taking forever.

Only a few hours earlier, Jess had been working at The Retreat, providing submissive services at a business launch party, where 150 delegates from the Fairtasia adult comic production company had explored every inch of her body. Reclining against the leather seat, she closed her eyes. She could still feel the imprint of each hand, tongue, breast and cock that had come her way. Her stomach churned with nerves, anger, fatigue, and her body’s treacherous and constant need for more sex.

Seven months ago, Jess had no idea she was a born submissive.

Six months ago, after becoming bored with a succession of temping jobs, she’d applied for the position of booking clerk at the Fables Hotel in Oxford, landed the post, and her life had changed beyond all recognition. From being a single girl, with a lacklustre sex life and no partner, Jess had become the resident submissive on Fables’ fifth floor. A place which, under the iron management of the very dominant Mrs Peters, provided a special service for adults who wished for their ultimate sexual fantasies to come true without fear of judgement, and in perfect safety.

Initially Jess had been horrified at how well, and how quickly, she’d adapted to this new subservient lifestyle. A lifestyle Mrs Peters had spotted she was suited to long before Jess herself had any idea. But just as she’d settled into her new life and work regime at the hotel, Jess had found herself uprooted.

One of Fables’ most demanding clients, Mr David Proctor, had persuaded Mrs Peters to lend him Jess, along with her dominatrix Miss Sarah, to help him and his manageress, Dr Ewen, set up his own Fables-style establishment in a remote part of Scotland – The Retreat.

Jess and Miss Sarah had been told they were being lent to Proctor to teach his staff the art of submissive behaviour. The reality of the situation, however, hadn’t been quite so straightforward.

Running her little finger along the outer edge of the collar for a second time, Jess fought back the constant reflex to choke. It was so tight. There was no way it could be cut free without damaging her skin.

David Proctor had forced Jess into his collar, declaring her his property unless she proved herself worthy of release. He was the only one with a key to the little silver padlock that held it together at the front of her neck. Even if she did manage to prise the leather free somehow, as the car left the never-ending A9 that tracks the east side of Scotland and joined the motorway, Jess could hear Proctor’s warning words echo in her ears when she’d threatened to call Mrs Peters …

“If you call her, that collar is never coming off. There is only one key and I have it. And before you think it can be cut off, it can’t be done. Not without hurting you. Anyway, if you did get it cut off, you’d have failed, and part of you would always remain mine. I can’t see Mrs Peters liking that very much; can you?”

Jess hated that he was right. Her boss wouldn’t have liked it all. She tried to tell herself that Mrs Peters would come to her rescue – but she physically and mentally shrank back from wondering what the cost of making such a request of the Fables’ mistress would be.

Unbidden, her mind slipped from thoughts of her boss to Miss Sarah. She tried to ignore the increase in her pulse rate, and the automatic swell of her breasts that the image of the tall, slim, demanding dominatrix always caused. For a split second, while they’d been together at The Retreat, Jess had begun to hope Miss Sarah cared for her a little beyond the requirements of work.

Jess knew, although she would never have been foolish enough to say so out loud, that she had formed a strong emotional attachment to the woman who dominated her body day after day in the pursuit of other people’s pleasure. Sometimes she trusted that her personal feelings towards her mistress were genuine but, on other occasions, logical thought took over. She told herself, for the umpteenth time, as she looked out in the night, that she’d probably adopted some sort of warped Stockholm Syndrome feeling to Miss Sarah; like a victim falling for her kidnapper.

It had been Miss Sarah who Mrs Peters had ordered to train Jess when she’d first joined the team at Fables. A training which had included a vigorously kinky, and highly effective, exercise routine that gave Jess immense stamina, teaching her how to remain motionless for prolonged periods of time, and how to delay an orgasm for as long as humanly possible.

At first, Jess had been terrified of Miss Sarah. She’d suspected the dominatrix resented her arrival, especially when Mrs Peters began to refer to Jess as her “perfect submissive.” This was a title Jess now understood had been designed precisely to provoke her, and force her to work even harder for fear of not living up to her requirements. It had nothing to do with Mrs Peters thinking Jess was good at her job –although Jess hoped she did.

But she sent you away … Jess shook her head sharply. Mrs Peters couldn’t have known Proctor had planned to keep her all along. She couldn’t possibly have been in on this from the start. Her boss had been conned by Proctor. They’d all been conned…

****

Knowing Her Place follows on from The Fifth Floor and The Retreat.

Available from:

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Smashwords

***

Happy weekend reading,

Kay x

A Dark Knight for Halloween

What can I tempt you with that’s dark and sexy and perhaps a bit spooky as well? I’m not known for writing paranormal or ghostly goings on, but I have touched upon the dark side of erotica once or twice…

Here’s a tasty extract from one the tales within The Collector 

The Dark Knight is set in a gloomy, damp, abandoned, castle dungeon. It is there, that Heather’s medieval submissive fantasy is about to take an unexpected turn.  This extract begins immediately after Heather has received the beating she so desperately needed…

…Paul dropped the twig. ‘You’d like me to kiss you better now wouldn’t you?’

Heather nodded fervently.

‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that’s not going to happen.’ He beckoned to Clare to approach him.

She moved quickly to his side, letting her cloak fall to the floor, revealing her tall slim darkly tanned body. With no hesitation Paul leant forward and began to suckle and lick Clare’s right nipple.

Heather’s mouth, dry and sticky, clenched around the cloth, her eyes were bright with tears of desperation. That was her attention, that was what she needed, it was hers by right.

spooky castle

Paul looked up at Heather, ‘You look a mess!’ Then he turned to Clare’s left breast, licking and nibbling at her nipple until she began to sway and rock against him.

Heather could only watch as her Master stared back at her. ‘Everything you crave I shall give to Clare.’ Paul kept his eyes on Heather for a split second longer, and then turned back to Clare, kissing her deeply, running his tongue around her mouth, and wrapping her inside his cloak to provide her chilled flesh some warmth. Then he turned Clare round and, pushing her to the floor, climbed on top of her so he could thrust his stiff cock into her wet opening in full view of his prisoner.

 

Hot jealously whipped through Heather. She no longer cared if he punished her further. After all, what else could he do? She closed her eyes, but that alone was not enough to block out what was happening before her as Clare began to mewl gently and Paul’s grunts of satisfaction filled the room.

She’d wanted humiliation, we’ll she’d got it. Heather opened her eyes again, facing the fact that her fantasy had got away from her. Yet, in that moment of realisation, she felt an erotic thrill shoot through her like no other. This was something even darker than her dreams, something vicious, something… better…

The Collector 2016

 

If you’d like to read the rest of this story- and many others- you can find it in The Collector at-

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01EVVGYB2?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01EVVGYB2?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

Happy reading everyone!

Kay xxx

 

 

NEW EROTIC ROMANCE RELEASE: Later by Charlotte Howard

NEW EROTIC ROMANCE RELEASE

 LATER

 By Charlotte Howard (@Shy_Tiger)

 #romance #eroticromance #romanticfiction

 Release Date: 26th October

ASIN: B07J2RB8V1

 Book Blurb:

Claudia Martins and her boss, Elliot Shepherd have worked together for five years, and have become close friends. After her boyfriend cheats on her, Claudia turns to Elliot for support. But, she’s been offered a job with a rival company – one that comes with the opportunity to climb the corporate ladder and make something of herself, and one that means leaving Elliot behind.

Would you pick a man over your dream job?

Buy Links:

LATER is available to pre-order from the 5th October at a sale price of 99p:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07J2RB8V1

The e-book will retail at £3.80 from November onwards.

A print version of the book will be available from November priced at £8.49

Extract:

She stared at the computer screen and the letter that stared back. Her finger hovered over the mouse; the white arrow-shaped cursor sat on top of the button marked ‘PRINT’. She took a deep breath and clicked it. The office printer whirred into action. It groaned loudly at having to work so late at night, blinking a single green light into the darkness. Claudia stood up when it finished and retrieved the paper. She folded it into a neat rectangle and pushed it into an envelope, scribbling Elliot’s name on the front. She went into his office and placed it on the keyboard of his computer. It was an impersonal way of handing in her notice, but she couldn’t face giving it to him in person, and it had to be done.

Her phone sang out, alerting her that she had an hour until Charlie’s gig started. It was more time than she needed. She checked her bag to make sure the VIP pass was still in her wallet.

“You’re working late again.” The sound of his deep voice made her jump. She glanced up to see Elliot leaning against the doorframe. He was still dressed in the same dark trousers and white shirt he’d been wearing all day, although he’d shed the jacket and tie. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and his sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, yet he still managed to look smart and professional, where a lesser man would have looked unkempt.

Claudia’s breath caught when she remembered the letter she’d left on his desk. She’d hoped that he wouldn’t find it until morning, when the office was a little bit busier, and he wouldn’t be able to make too much of a scene. “I…” She stumbled over her words, her tongue tied into knots, searching for a reasonable lie.

“Go home,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “Get ready for Charlie’s gig. I don’t want him blaming me for keeping you here.”

She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and felt her cheeks heat. Standing up, she hoicked her bag onto her shoulder. “You’re right,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She walked towards the door, but he blocked her path. He had a good eight or nine inches on her, and she had to glance up to look at him. Elliot stepped to the side. She felt his stare burn into her neck as she walked out of the office. She wondered if he’d already found the letter, if he knew that she planned on leaving Aries Limited within the next four weeks.

About the Author:

“My career as a writer started when I was young, writing poetry and flash fiction for my friends and family. After a few minor successes of having pieces published in anthologies, and later on-line, I decided to have a go at writing a full-length novel. My first attempt was a bit of a disaster, but after years of practice, I finally got that coveted First Contract. Since then, I’ve written several more novels and short stories, and I don’t intend to retire for at least another 50 years.”​

​​Award-winning author, Charlotte lives in Somerset with her husband, two children, and growing menagerie of pets and can always be found with a cup of tea in her hand. When she’s not writing or running around after small people and animals, she loves to eat curry and watch action films.

Charlotte is a member of the Romantic Novelists Association.

Social Media Links:

Website: http://www.charlottehowardauthor.co.uk/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CharlotteHowardAuthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Shy_Tiger

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/choward_author/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Charlotte-Howard/e/B00935EFFE

GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5829768.Charlotte_V_Howard

Other Titles Available:

 Tirgearr Publishing –

SEVEN DIRTY WORDS

FOUR LETTER WORDS

THE BLACK DOOR

THE FINAL STRAIGHT

CITY NIGHTS: ONE NIGHT IN ABERDEEN

CITY NIGHTS: ONE NIGHT IN EDINBURGH

CITY NIGHTS: ONE NIGHT IN INVERNESS

Totally Bound Publishing –

TAKING CARE OF LEAH

Evernight Publishing –

A DIFFERENT KIND OF THERAPY (Winner of Evernight Readers’ Choice Awards 2017, and LR Café’s Best of 2017)

Self-Published –

STRANDED

 ***

Many thanks Charlotte. Good luck with your new release.

Happy reading,

Kay x

Something for the Weekend: The Retreat

This weekend I thought I’d tempt you with a little from The Retreat – the middle novel in The Perfect Submissive Trilogy.

Continuing the story of Miss Jess Sanders journey through the world of the professional submissive, The Retreat takes her away from the life she has only just been getting used to…

 

Blurb-

Just as Jess is beginning to relax into her new life as a submissive at The Fables Hotel, her employer Mrs Peters announces that she is loaning both Jess, and her dominatrix Miss Sarah, to one of their most demanding clients; Mr David Proctor.

Whisked away by the mysterious Kane to The Retreat, hidden in a remote part of Scotland, Jess and Miss Sarah find themselves teaching another submissive to meet Proctor’s exacting rules.

As Jess comes to terms with the techniques of The Retreat Mistress, and the strictly overpowering dominatrix Lady Tia, she discovers that Proctor’s motives may not be all they seem.

Just who or what is Fairtasia? And why does Jess feel like she’s walked into a warped fairy tale?

In order to get back to The Fables, Jess is going to have to be more than just a perfect submissive…

****

 

 

Here’s a tasty taster from the beginning of The Retreat to whet your appetite…

Prologue

‘Please Sir, please! I won’t let you down.’

David Proctor smiled down at the girl on her knees before him. The top of her head, haphazardly piled high with blonde curls, was all he could see on her pleading face.

‘I can learn. I can.’ The cooks voice caught in her throat, ‘I will learn to be whoever you want me to be.’

The warm softness of her Scottish accent added a dimension to his arousal that David hadn’t expected. He’d never a met a girl so keen to be subservient to him before. To be his personal submissive.

With his ego growing almost as much as his cock, as it pushed against the inside of his suit trousers, David crouched down beside the girl. Her bare buttocks bore the pleasing marks of his palm. The fading prints were pink now, but they’d blazed red only moments ago, as he’d held her across his lap, spanking her backside again and again in punishment for her repeated disobedience.

Her breasts, the perfect handful, were dotted with freckles, and as his mind considered all the things a willing slave could do for him, and he could do to her, he lifted her lowered head by the chin.

‘But you refuse to climax when I tell you to.’ David’s voice wasn’t angry, but it was hard. He was, and would always be the unyielding business man. If there was nothing in any arrangement for him, it wouldn’t happen.

‘I want to though Sir. I really want to, I just…I wait so long for permission, and then, I just can’t. I am so sorry, I…’

‘SShhhh.’ David stroked his hand through the wisps of her hair that had escaped her hooked up ponytail. She intrigued him.

The Retreat did need a new submissive, and quickly if his business plans were to expand in the direction he intended them to. The man Fairtasia was sending to represent them was due any day now, and not long after that their delegates would arrive.

‘Please Sir?’ Her blue eyes seemed impossibly wide as stayed still, her bare legs against the cold stone kitchen floor proving how good her stamina was, ‘Lady Tia could teach me.’

‘Training.’ David spoke the word slowly as if to himself, mulling each letter over in thought, but the young cook leapt upon the word.

‘Yes Sir! Dr Ewen says Lady Tia is the best dominatrix in her field.’

‘Umm. She is indeed, but…’ The Retreats new owner reached his uncallused hands to her tits, and felt a surge of satisfaction as the nipples pressed back persuasively against his skin, ‘I’m not sure Lady Tia’s field of expertise will be sufficient in this case. Spankings and beatings you can obviously already take.’

The girl lowered her face again. There was no doubt she was submissive material- and yet not quite. Her deference to him however, and his urgent need for a female submissive on his staff made David’s mind up for him.

‘I think it’s time I contacted a friend in England. I’m sure she’ll send us the help we need.’ Manipulating the cooks chest with greater pressure, enjoying pushing a gasp of pain tinged pleasure come from her lips, David’s round face gave a calculating smile.

His eyes had fallen upon the range in the centre of The Retreat’s kitchen, and then the table next to it. A huge old fashioned pottery jar of ginger powder, and another of brown sugar, sat awaiting the cooks’ attention. He’d been wondering how to impress the potential clients from Fairtasia. Whatever he did in order to win their contract, the performance the staff at The Retreat provided would have to be unforgettable. Now he knew just how that show was going to go.

‘Alisha.’

The cook jerked her head up hopefully.

‘You may train to be The Retreats submissive. Lady Tia can begin your lessons as you suggest.’ He unzipped the fly of his trousers, and freed his dick. He has to suppress a laugh as the girl eyes it hungrily. ‘You may call me David, I don’t like Sir, never have. Now suck me off.’

‘Yes David.’

‘Good girl.’ David pulled his mobile from his pocket as the cook’s velvet mouth engulfed him. There was a pause as he waited for the phone to connect, when the only sound in the granite built room was the working of Alisha’s lip and tongue.

‘Ah, the Fables Hotel? Good, Mrs Peters office please. Not there? Please tell her that Mr Proctor has a proposition for her; and that time is of the essence.’

Hanging up, David gripped his fingers deep into the cook’s increasingly tangled hair. Pushing his groin forward, admiring the way Alisha adjusted her position so that she didn’t gag, but took him deeper. ‘Tell me Alisha, what do you know about fairy tales…?’

****

If you’d like to read The Retreat, you can find it in paperback or e-format at all good retailers, including-

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
Kobo
Smashwords

Happy reading,

Kay xx

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