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Tasty Taster: A Kink a Day Book Two

The #weekend is upon us once more, and what better way to spend it than with a little bit of kink?

Sit back and enjoy a little taster from my sexy anthology,  A Kink a Day Book Two 

Eight hot erotic fantasies – one for each night of the week – and a spare…

Blurb:

From the kinky activities of an obligingly dirty girl, to an unorthodox game of snooker; a battle with both extreme heat and cold, and some delicious cafe-time action, A Kink a Day Book Two provides a bite-sized moment of lust-fuelled distraction for each day of the week—with an additional erotic fantasy to enhance your Saturday morning lie-in.

Here’s a taster from Dirty Girl…

‘Do you think we look anywhere near that good when we shag?’ Ryan asked, pressing the “pause” button on the DVD to highlight a man and a woman fucking each other uncontrollably against a fridge.

‘Better.’ She looked him straight in the eye.

‘Better?’ his mouth twitched. ‘Always the dirty girl.’

‘Would I be sat watching porn with you if I wasn’t?’ Beth slowly undid her blouse and revealed her naked tits. ‘Whatever would Gary say?’

‘Gary understands. Trust me.’

Beth laughed as she began to stroke her coffee-coloured nipples. ‘I’m not sure trusting you has ever been a sensible option.’

‘True.’ Ryan smiled mischievously, his eyes fixed firmly on her chest.

He watched as she flattened her breasts with her palms, kneading them vigorously.

Her eyes had closed. ‘Bad, dirty and very, very naughty, that’s me.’

Ryan pulled her towards him. He brushed her hands out of the way and began to flick his tongue around her breasts. Beth grinned down at him with satisfaction, watching his expert tongue working its magic on her sensitive skin.

The ring of the front door bell echoed through the room. Beth scowled in the direction of the hall. ‘Shit; who’s that?’

Ryan pulled away. ‘Stay there, dirty girl. I’ll be two minutes.’

Beth helped herself to another glass of wine as she enjoyed the spectacle on the television; two women were now prowling round on all fours. She could hear Ryan moving about upstairs. ‘Everything OK?’ she shouted.

‘Fine, won’t be a minute.’

He bounded downstairs again a few minutes later looking flushed and determined, carrying a canvas bag which he put down by the sofa. ‘Now, let me ask you a question, dirty girl; what do you prefer? Me sucking your tits, or actually seeing me suck your tits?’

‘Both. But I guess I get a kick out of watching you work on me. It adds a certain something.’ …

AVAILABLE FROM…

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

Happy reading!

Kay xx

Tiny Taster: Knowing Her Place

This week, I’m sharing a ‘Tiny Taster’ from the third 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 a tiny taster 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…

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 reading,

Kay x

Curve Appeal: New Release from Lucy Felthouse

Today I’m delighted to feature a #newrelease from epic #erotica writer and friend, Lucy Felthouse.

Curve Appeal, a standalone contemporary reverse harem/why choose romance! (@cw1985) #reverseharem #whychoose #rh #rhromance #eroticromance #bbw #curvyheroine #rubenesque

Blurb:

An exciting opportunity could solve all Brianna’s problems. But will it ultimately create more?

Brianna Denton is a primary school teacher at the end of her tether. Budget cuts, changes in legislation and a pandemic have left her feeling like walking away from the only career she’s ever wanted. The trouble is, if she did quit, what would she do next? Living in London is expensive, and keeping on top of her rent and bills while retraining would be nigh-on impossible. An offer to move in with her best friend, Joel Harris, is appreciated, but feels way too much like charity for her liking.

But then Joel throws her a curveball. On a complete whim, he’s bought a fixer-upper cottage on a remote Scottish island. He wants to transform it into an uber-luxury holiday home and rent it out. To do that, however, he needs a skilled, reliable workforce and a project manager to keep things running smoothly. A visit to the island in question provides as many questions as answers, but one thing becomes clear – Brianna is the perfect woman for the job. She’s smart, organised, works well under duress, and if she can handle a classroom full of young children, surely a bunch of skilled tradesmen won’t be a problem. Working and living in such a stunning setting is a massive plus point, too.

Brianna takes a leap of faith, leaving her home and beloved career behind to help turn Joel’s dream into a reality. It’s a steep learning curve, but Brianna is definitely up for the challenge. But when working relationships develop into something more, will it bring the entire project crashing down around her ears, or is it simply the beginning of a whole new life?

Available from (will be in Kindle Unlimited for 90 days, then be released on all other retailers): https://books2read.com/curveappeal

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/134717777-curve-appeal

Add to BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/curve-appeal-by-lucy-felthouse

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Brianna smiled as she caught sight of Joel, already waiting for her outside the pub. His job as a high-flying London City banker meant he put in some insane hours at work, but he ensured he was always available and on time for their last-Friday-of-the-month meet up at their favourite Thames-side establishment. Not only was it a lovely place, but the location was perfect for them both—it was just far away enough from Joel’s work it was unlikely he’d bump into any colleagues, and close enough to the primary school Brianna taught in that she could tie up any loose ends and scurry the short distance to meet her friend in no time at all. Today she’d had quite a few loose ends, which always seemed to be the way lately, and was a few minutes later than she’d planned, so was scurrying more quickly than usual, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer than necessary.

He hadn’t spotted her yet—he was leaning against the wall, one expensively-shod foot propped up on the bricks behind him, his head tilted up to the early spring sunshine, which even this late in the day was surprisingly strong and picked up the few lighter strands in his dark hair. He’d removed his tie—knowing him, the moment he set foot outside his office building—the end of which poked from the pocket of his black trousers, and rolled up the cuffs of his subtly-patterned shirt to expose most of his forearms. The look was casual, relaxed. Handsome.

In a parallel universe, she and Joel might be a couple, off travelling the world together, or perhaps married and getting ready to settle down and have a couple of kids. Maybe they’d have started early and had the kids already. And a dog.

In this universe, however, they were best friends—had been since their first day of senior school at the tender age of eleven. And while Brianna thought Joel handsome, it was in an impartial, stating a fact way. She wasn’t attracted to him, and it wouldn’t have made a difference if she was, because in this universe, Joel was as gay as they came—a fact she hadn’t realised she’d already known, until at eighteen he’d sat her down, his expression serious, and said he had something to tell her.

Her heart had pounded, and a sick feeling had taken over her stomach. Thoughts started racing through her head—was one of his parents ill? Was he ill? Was he moving away? Unable to cope with the internal onslaught of negativity any longer, she’d said, “For Christ’s sake, Joel, spill the beans, would you? You’re freaking me the fuck out.”

His seriousness had morphed briefly to annoyance, then resignation. He’d taken in and released a deep breath, then, “Bree, I wanted you to be the first to know… I’m gay.”

A sound somewhere between a squeak and a giggle had escaped her lips before she could stop it. She’d clapped her hand over her mouth for a second, then removed it and burst out with “Oh, you idiot!” before landing a playful slap on his arm. “Is that all? I thought you were going to say something bad. That something terrible was going on. Thank God.”

Joel had frowned. “So you… don’t mind?” He’d paused, narrowed his eyes. “You don’t seem surprised.”

She’d shaken her head. “Of course I don’t mind. Why the hell would I mind? I’m not a homophobe. If blokes float your boat, so be it. As long as you’re happy, I couldn’t give a toss. And, for the record…” it had been her turn to pause, “I think I’ve known for years.” She nodded as long-forgotten jigsaw pieces began slotting together in her head, then shrugged. “Yeah. I have. Years.”

And now, twenty years later, their friendship had endured—flourished, even. Weathered storms, and basked in sunlight—much as Joel continued to do as she grew closer. Her smile widened, and she was glad she had on flat shoes—not only did it make both her job and the short walk from the school easier, it also meant she had a good chance of creeping up on Joel, maybe scaring the shit out of him as he sunned himself. They might be approaching forty, but when they were together, they often acted as immature and idiotic as they had when they’d first met. Yes, they were getting older, but they sure as shit weren’t growing up.

Respective partners had come and gone, most of them never able to comprehend, much less tolerate, hers and Joel’s unique friendship, but as their jobs, and other friends and family kept them busy and fulfilled, singledom had never particularly concerned either of them. As far as she was concerned, at least, what would be, would be.

She enjoyed the sunshine on her skin as she closed the gap between them, then held her breath as she came within a couple of metres of Joel before flinging herself forward and grabbing onto his nearest finely-muscled arm. “Gotcha!”

He yelped, jumped, snatched his arm away and opened his eyes in a hilarious sequence, then clutched his chest and gave her a good-natured glare, his blue eyes glinting. “Fuck’s sake, Bree! You’re lucky I didn’t swing for you, then. I thought someone was trying to rob me.”

“That’ll teach you to wear ludicrously expensive watches,” she replied with a snicker.

He glanced wryly at his Patek Philippe, then looked back at her with a grin. “Touché. Come on,” he turned around, slipped his arm through hers and led her into the relative gloom of the pub, “for that twattishness, first drink’s on you.”

She couldn’t argue with that reasoning. It was still worth it, though, to see the look of pure panic cross his face. She stifled further giggles, not wanting to inspire her friend to order the most expensive drink he could think of, purely to get his own back. While top of the range watches were easily within his budget, she’d had to save up for a mid-range Fitbit.

A few minutes later, with drinks in hand, they sat down at a table on the terrace overlooking the river and took simultaneous sips of their chosen beverages. Brianna swallowed the mouthful of chilled white wine, then, without meaning to, let out a long, contented sigh.

Joel raised an eyebrow as he swigged his beer, then said, “Sounds as though you needed that. Tough week?”

“Hmm. You could say that.” She fidgeted in her seat, getting the uncomfortable inkling she’d opened a can of worms she’d have preferred was left undisturbed.

“Oh?” His other eyebrow jumped up to join the first. “Do tell.”

She stared out over the river, screwed up her nose and wafted a hand in his vague direction. “No, no, it’s work stuff. Boring, really. Not worth talking about.”

“Bree.” He grabbed her hand, drawing her attention to his face. His expression was earnest, his gaze intense. “Maybe it is boring, but it’s clearly bothering you, so I want to know about it. I’m your best friend, remember? If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”

She squeezed his hand, then pulled hers away, picked up her glass and took a gulp. Swallowed, then groaned. There was no putting the lid back on the can—she might as well come out with it. “Oh, all right. It’s just… I don’t know… I think I’m getting a bit fed up of teaching.”

Joel spluttered into his pint, drawing querying glances from a few of the people at tables adjacent to theirs. Ignoring them, Joel put his drink down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gaped at her as though she’d grown a second head. “What? But you… you love teaching!”

Nodding sadly, she replied, “I do. The teaching part. The kids. But the rest; the planning, the admin, the assessing, the being assessed, being micromanaged, dealing with parents, the endless fucking meetings, the meetings about meetings, the meetings that could have been an email… it’s getting on top of me. It wasn’t too bad before—the joy of being in the classroom far outweighed the rest, but since the pandemic, the shambles that is bloody Brexit and the subsequent government fuckery, things have become steadily worse. Rules being changed, goalposts moving, budgets being squeezed, funding getting cut, costs going up. We’re expected to work more and more hours for the same amount of pay, with fewer support staff, yet still uphold the same insanely high standards and have enough energy and spark to engage and teach a class of primary school kids! It’s becoming completely untenable. And the strike action hasn’t exactly been stress free.”

Joel gave her a sympathetic smile. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better. Why haven’t you mentioned this before now?”

She shrugged. “No point. All the decisions are way above my pay grade, so there’s nothing I can do. I’ve just been soldiering on, hoping things will improve. But right now, I honestly can’t see an end in sight. We’re human beings, not robots, and we’re being treated like shit. We’ve come a long way from being lauded as keyworkers, that’s for bloody certain.” She rolled her lips inward, bit down on them, wondering whether she should let the words on the tip of her tongue come out. She’d barely admitted it to herself, much less anyone else. But this was Joel. He’d have her back no matter what she said.

She took a deep breath, huffed it out again, then looked him in the eye. “I’m thinking of jacking it in at the end of term.”

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures, Eyes Wide Open, The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight, Curve Appeal, and The Heiress’s Harem and The Dreadnoughts series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name. Find out more about her and her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/linktree

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

Tasty Taster: The Fifth Floor

This weekend, let’s go to the The Fifth Floor  (The Perfect Submissive #trilogy- Book One) and meet Miss Jess Sanders as she starts her adventure into the (so far unknown) world of the BDSM submissive…

Blurb

Hidden behind the respectable façade of the Fables Hotel in Oxfordshire, five specially adapted rooms await visitors to the fifth floor. Here, Mrs Peters is mistress of an adult entertainment facility pandering to the kinky requirements of its guests. When she meets Jess Sanders, she recognises the young woman’s potential as a deliciously meek addition to her specialist staff. All it will take is a little education.

Under the tutelage of dominatrix, Miss Sarah, Jess learns to cope with an erotically demanding training schedule and a truly sexy exercise regime. But will she come to terms with her new career?

Meanwhile, Mrs Peters is temporarily distracted from her intimidating rule over Fables’ fifth floor by artist, Sam Wheeler – who she believes can help her in her mission to transform Jess into the perfect submissive…

Here’s a tasty taster…

…Jess was sat at her desk, a half eaten sandwich in one hand; the fingers of her other hand dancing over the computer keyboard. Laura watched her through the office window for a few moments before confidently stepping into the room, interrupting the clerk without hesitation. ‘Mr Davies informs me he has not yet had time to complete your preliminary tour of the hotel.’

Understanding precisely where the manageress intended to take her, Jess spoke carefully, ‘I’ve seen most of it, but not all.’

Without confirming the clerk’s suspicions, Laura said, ‘I have a few moments, so if you’d like to walk this way I’ll complete that area of your training.’ She pointed towards the office door, ‘You are bound to be asked for directions around the place by our guests and it doesn’t look very professional if a member of staff gets lost herself, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘I would, Mrs Peters.’

Although she’d now worked at the Fables for just over a week, Jess still hadn’t looked her boss in the eye once, a fact that sent a buzz of conviction through Mrs Peters; her initial instincts about the girl had been correct.

‘Are you happy here so far, Miss Sanders?’

‘Yes, Mrs Peters. Thank you.’ Jess muttered her response, almost managing to glance directly at her superior, but falling short at her shoulders. Laura’s heartbeat increased in response to the girl’s natural deference. Jess Sanders was just so perfect for what she had in mind.

As they walked towards the staff lift Laura attempted to improve the flow of conversation, ‘And I don’t think you have yet been introduced to all the other members of staff?’

‘Not yet, no.’ Again Jess spoke cautiously, and Laura knew from the expression on her face that she was both fearful and curious about meeting anyone who kept their business arrangements entirely to the Fables upper storey.

‘We are one member of staff down at the moment; one of my assistants has left us for pastures new. I’m searching for a replacement. Master Lee Philips, who works in the bar downstairs, helps me out as and when required, but it’s not an ideal arrangement. He has many other duties, and besides, the fifth floor guests frequently prefer the female touch.’

Following the clerk into the lift it was obvious that no small talk was going to come from her, so Laura calmly kept up her commentary. ‘My associate, Miss Sarah, should be on the premises by 10.00 each morning, unless she has had a complete night session, in which case she is not expected until 2.00 p.m. As I’ve said, Master Philips comes and goes, depending on our requirements and his bar and reception work. Miss Sarah has her first session of the day in a few moments, if we are lucky we should just catch the show.’

Visibly shrinking back, Jess noticed how Mrs Peters walked a little taller now they’d reached her domain. Her face was more set, her back straighter, and somehow she appeared even more intimidating than before. Pushing her hands into the deep pockets of her clinging knee-length black skirt, Jess hid the growing sheen of perspiration on her palms, while trying to ignore the fearful beat of her pulse.

Crossing the threshold of the room, into which she was being firmly steered by the elbow, felt like entering another world to Jess, or rather, another time. Manoeuvred towards a plush red velvet chaise longue, her eyes darting here and there, the clerk was pointedly sat down.

Trying to ignore the light but persistent pressure of Mrs Peters cool hand against her wrist, Jess took in the reproduction William Morris wallpaper, the heavy dark-wood chest of drawers, the floor to ceiling bookshelves, and the faded brown leather wing-backed armchair. Centre stage, only a few metres from where they sat, was a huge writing desk. Its top was inlaid with a square of leather, a portion of which was covered with blotting paper, an accompanying ink well, pots of ink, and nibbed pens.

Jess was reminded of a museum she’d once visited as a child, where rooms from a variety of different houses had been re-created from a number of historical periods. This room had Victorian study written all over it.

The silence was beginning to get to her as she waited, perched rather than sat, on the unyielding seat. A faint voice of hope at the back of her head kept telling her that all this had to be some sort of practical joke, but one glance at Mrs Peters made Jess reconsider. Her eyes kept drifting towards the study door. Whatever she had been brought here to witness surely couldn’t begin until someone came in. Twenty seconds later, each one ticked off by the hammer of Jess’s heart beating, the door swung back with a confident push.

‘Ah, Miss Sarah,’ Laura rose from her seat, a stern glare at Jess telling her not to move. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but Fables has a new member of staff, and I thought it would be a good idea to let her observe one of our sessions.’

Miss Sarah, her face powdered to an ultra-pale complexion, her curling hair pinned up in the style of a Victorian lady, her exquisite outfit historically accurate down to the small white buttons that fastened her stylish black boots, curtsied at once to her superior, ‘Of course, Mrs Peters.’

The stunningly slim woman glanced briefly at Jess, her grey gaze only lingering long enough to acknowledge the stranger, without taking in what she looked like or who she might be. Miss Sarah’s indifference, dismissing the office clerk as an unimportant factor in the room, made Jess feel smaller and more anxious than ever.

The agonising lull continued and Jess’s imagination began to run riot as Miss Sarah sat at the desk in preparation for her client’s arrival. Images of pock-skinned overweight men, panting loudly as they fucked the employees of the fifth floor against the furniture made Jess’s stomach churn, but there was no way out. With a quiet determination that Mrs Peters would have been surprised to know Jess possessed, she thought, if the other members of staff here have survived this part of the tour, then so can I.

As Mrs Peters returned to both the chaise lounge and her application of gentle restraint against the clerk’s arm, Jess’s body stiffened. Someone was knocking on the door. Not daring to face her employer, Jess focused on the figure that, after being granted permission to enter, walked meekly into the study.

If he hadn’t had his neck bent, his face to the floor with respect for Miss Sarah, who greeted him with a sharp ‘Good Morning’, Jess judged he would have been quite tall. And he was young; not the sweaty, aged bank manager Jess had conjured up in her head, but a man in his late 20s or early 30s, with a shaven face, short spiked ginger hair, and well built limbs. He was dressed as a servant, perhaps a stable hand. Jess was automatically reminded of Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Gulping against her dehydrated throat, unwilling to see the sex that she was sure was about to follow, the clerk dropped her eyes, only to have her chin roughly jerked upwards by Mrs Peters, ‘No, child. You will observe. You will learn.’

A patina of panic gripped Jess. Every hair on the back of her neck stood to attention. Until that moment it had been unreal. She hadn’t let go of the hope that at any minute someone was going to turn around and say, ‘OK, Jess, it’s just a joke. We play it on all the new girls. Let’s grab a coffee.’ No one did though. No one was saying anything…

Available from:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
Apple Books UK
Apple Books US
Kobo
Smashwords

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xxxx

 

Tasty Taster: Not Her Type

It’s time to enjoy a ‘Tasty Taster’ from my hot delivery man novella,

Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures of a Delivery Man

(copyright- Kay Jaybee and 1001NightsPress)Not Her Type

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…

***

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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