Everyone Needs A Bedtime Story

Tag: psychological

Something for the Weekend: The Voyeur

Why not escape into a little kink, and enjoy #somethingfortheweekend with my BDSM menage romance  The Voyeur ?

Blurb

Wealthy businessman and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of thirteen fantasies he is intent on turning into reality. Travelling between his London flat, his plush Oxfordshire mansion, and Discreet, his favourite S&M club; Mark is helped to realise his imaginatively dark erotic desires by two loyal members of his staff. His Personal Assistant, Anya Grant, and his Housekeeper, Clara Hooper.

Upon the backs of his willing slaves, Mark has written out his fantasy list in thick red pen. Only Fantasy 12 awaits the tick of completion against their flesh before Mark’s ultimate fantasy – Fantasy 13- can take place.

But have the girls performed well enough to succeed in the final challenge? And what hold does the Bridge’s Gentleman’s Club, Anya’s previous employer, have over Mark? A place Anya was only too delighted to escape from.

In order to find out, Mark’s girls are going to have to face some of the fantasies they thought they’d left behind them all over again; and while they do, Mark will watch…

Here’s an extract to tickle those visual taste buds… To their horror, Anya and Clara have just been told that they have to repeat many of the fantasies they thought they’d left behind them. In this section of Chapter 3 we find the girls about to retake Fantasy 2, while Mark looks on. It’s torture by erotica…

…Reclining in his chair, Mark raised his arm as if he was about to start a race, and gave the first order. ‘Strip.’

With practice born of repetition, the women divested themselves of their clothing, heaping their discarded garments onto the bed behind them.

Mark took a moment to study his staff, and then pointed to the foot of the four-poster bed. Understanding the unspoken request, the women stood, face to face, one metre apart.

Anya could feel her heart rate quicken further as she regarded Clara. It didn’t matter that she had enjoyed the feel of Clara’s skin a hundred times before; all that mattered was feeling it again, and soon.

‘As you will remember, you must remain exactly where you are, without touching each other, without making a sound. All you have to do is listen and refrain from moving.’ Picking up a well-thumbed paperback of erotic short stories from the bedside table, Mark took his time leafing through the pages to find the section he’d decided to narrate to his staff.

‘Even though Gail had been expecting it, the ring of the doorbell still made her jump. Wiping her palms apprehensively down the back of her jeans, she went to greet her guest.

‘The smile that met Gail as she opened the door turned into a beam of approval as Becky’s eyes scanned Gail’s snug-fitting red top and black jeans as if she had X-ray vision. “Wow, that’s one sexy vest, honey.”

‘Gail’s face flushed, but she managed to swallow back her natural inclination to dismiss a compliment, and let her own eyes roam over her visitor. Becky, in blue jeans and a plain black figure-hugging T-shirt, which displayed her cleavage to perfection, looked fantastic. Her recently washed and fluffed hair smelt mildly of lemon, and her face looked fresh and keen.

‘“You look pretty hot yourself, come in.” Becky followed her host into the small hallway that led to the lounge.

‘Gail was thankful for the background music she’d put on, for now they were here, face to face, just out of arm’s reach, an awkward tension hung in the air. They simply didn’t know what to say to each other. Surprising herself by being the one to break the silence, Gail spoke quietly. “This is ridiculous. Come here.” Catching hold of Becky’s hand, feeling how cold it was despite the heat of the room, she pulled her down onto the short blue sofa.

‘They still didn’t talk, but now it didn’t matter. As Gail sat, her legs hooked up under her, her body whorled toward Becky, everything within her immediate sight became blurred around the edges; this girl’s face, her clear green eyes, her mouth, the hands that began to reach out to Gail …

‘As Becky’s fingers reached her cheeks, Gail was snapped back to reality by their tender touch on her pale flesh. Placing her own hands on Becky’s shoulders, Gail ran them up each side of her neck, until she was cupping her face. The desire to kiss this person, this woman, was overwhelming. As her face came to Gail’s, Becky muttered, “You still want to?”

‘“Oh yes.” Gail hardly even breathed the words as their lips came together and their eyes closed.

‘The goose-pimples that had been spotting Gail’s arms tingled, and every nerve-ending flickered as a supple tongue darted against her mouth, and soft hair stroked her face. Her lips would have been happy to keep doing this, to kiss this person endlessly, but Gail’s body had other ideas, and after a few moments she could no longer sustain the leisurely pace.

‘Her kisses became firmer, and Becky, picking up on Gail’s urgency, reciprocated with equal fervour. Their hands, everywhere at once, began a thorough exploration of each other. Kneading tits, sliding hands beneath shirts to feel bare skin against their virgin fingers, nipping at each other’s neck, trailing hands lower, caressing crotches through thick denim, they touched whatever they could reach without giving up the kissing that became more and more passionate.

‘Finally breaking away, panting, their eyes serious but twinkling with mutual lust, they stood up …’

As he read, Mark, who knew the passage he was reciting so well that he really didn’t need to have the book in front of him, watched the girls’ bodies react; their teats hardening, their breasts swelling. Gratified that they hadn’t yet wavered from their position, he launched back into the manuscript, continuing to observe Anya and Clara carefully as he read …

‘Reaching out again, Becky dragged Gail’s top from her shoulders. Copying the action, Gail drew a long deep breath as she saw Becky’s black lace chemise, an exhalation that was echoed by Becky, whose emerald gaze had locked on to Gail’s bright red satin bra. Only a second’s visual appreciation passed, however, as, with unspoken understanding, they freed their breasts.

‘Gail’s hands leapt to her companion’s perfectly round yielding chest. As she made contact with Becky’s globes, the neat beige tips pushed back against her palms. Becky let out a husky groan of yearning, bringing her own hands to the other woman, her little fingers rubbing around Gail’s dark areolas in delectably torturous circles.

‘Desperate to find out if the taste of a tit was as she imaged it to be, Gail knocked Becky’s hands away, her lips rushing forward on a collision course for her guest’s right nipple. The texture of female flesh between her teeth sent a thrill gushing through her, turning Gail’s pussy from damp to wet as she gently kissed all around the teat. Savouring Becky’s sigh of contentment, Gail turned her caresses to pinches and bites, making her lover gasp as her hands continued their investigation of the mouth-watering body that was responding to her so readily. A voice at the back of Gail’s mind was asking her how the hell she knew what to do, but she ignored it, more concerned with continuing her research.

‘Becky’s arms hung limp at her sides as Gail pushed her back onto the sofa, lifted her hips, and began to pull down her jeans.

‘Gail’s throat became Sahara dry as she revealed Becky’s ruby and silver-studded naval. Pausing to kiss it, she continued removing the denims until she was faced with a beautiful, black lace-covered pussy. Nothing mattered now except seeing what lay under that small triangle of fabric. With a quick glance at Becky to make sure she still wanted to proceed, Gail pressed a firm palm over the knickers, feeling her stomach muscles quiver as she ran a single finger beneath the waistband. Becky’s breathing became laboured as Gail peeled the lace away from her crotch.

‘The smoothly shaven pussy that met Gail’s eyes seemed to ask for attention all on its own. Gail’s fingers obliged, examining its secret folds. Her touch revelled in the unfamiliar sensations, and her nose instantly loved the sweet aroma as her fingers uncovered the erect clit. Leaning closer, Gail blew air across its tip, making Becky whimper as moist lips met her pussy. Lapping up the sweet juices with delight, Gail’s hands snaked up Becky, massaging each breast.

‘Murmuring her pleasure with short mewls, Becky’s body began to jerk. Her involuntary movements increased as Gail speeded her caresses, gliding a finger inside the wet snatch, as Becky, with a cry of joy, came around the thin digit while Gail continued to stimulate her clit …’

Anya’s toes clenched as she fought the urge to shuffle her feet. Her entire body could feel the echo of Becky and Gail’s imagined stimulation. Before the reading had started, Anya had adopted the position experience had taught her she could maintain for a long time, with her hands together in front of her. Now, as Mark’s words slunk over her, the PA felt her sticky palms suction together. Resolute that she would not fail, she was equally desperate to touch Clara. Anya began to wish that she had focused her eyes on her lover’s feet rather than on her slim, porcelain waist and perfectly oval naval.

Clara, her neck bent, was studying the patch of carpet just in front of Anya’s painted toenails. Her hands, linked behind her back, dug into her palms as she did her best to block out Mark’s low, sensual voice; trying to think about anything but the intensely erotic scenario that was being read to them.

Distracting herself, Anya began to mull over where Mark had hidden the stopwatch. She was sure there’d be one hidden somewhere, counting off the seconds until either she or Clara caved in and moved. It was probably in his pocket, but Anya didn’t dare lift her gaze enough to see if the tell-tale circular bulge to his jeans pocket was there.

As Mark lingered over a paragraph detailing the fictional women licking each other out, Anya’s crotch twitched faster. She could almost feel the described contact for herself, and guessed from the visible tensing of her stomach muscles that Clara was fighting a similar battle.

Trying hard not to dwell on how wet her partner might be, and wishing she’d been bound so that her forced inactivity was easier, Anya attempted to picture the pile of paperwork on her desk, and the massive number of emails that would be cluttering up her inbox while she was away from the office. Yet her attempts at such practical thoughts were washed away by Mark’s kinky recital …

‘Gail couldn’t believe how incredible it felt, as a girl stroked her inner thighs and snatch with languid strokes of her agile tongue. Unable to keep her hands still, she reached down to the top of Becky’s head, but, unable to reach her, moved her fingers to her own breasts, massaging them in time to the gloriously frustrating movements between her legs …’

It was Clara’s foot that shifted first. Just a tiny fraction. If Mark hadn’t been expecting it then it might have gone unnoticed, but he remembered how Fantasy 2 had ended last time, with the minor wriggle of his housekeeper’s toes, and it was with an expressionless dip of his head that he witnessed history repeating itself.

Clara inwardly cursed her unbidden movement. She was sure she had managed to remain motionless for longer than she had last time, but the proximity of Anya, and the temptation of the words Mark had been weaving around them, had been too much.

Now that Clara had moved, Anya felt the tension ease from her rigid frame, and risked flexing her fingers a little. Mark’s cut-glass voice ripped through the sound of the soloist singing her haunting tones from the stereo. ‘I expected you to last longer, Miss Hooper. You have six months more experience than you had the last time you took this test.’

Instantly both girls became stock still in the face of their boss’s disappointment.

‘I have not finished reading. You will take one step closer to each other. You will not touch each other.’

Anya could almost taste Clara’s skin, it was so close, and the heady aroma of her partner’s snatch was wafting temptingly toward her. Mark resumed the torturously arousing monologue as she battled harder than ever not to grab the woman in front of her…

***

If you want to find out how Anya and Clara came to work for Mark, and what other challenges they have to endure, you can buy The Voyeur from –

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

GooglePlay

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xx

Something for the Weekend: The Voyeur

Why not escape into a little kink, and enjoy #somethingfortheweekend with my BDSM menage romance  The Voyeur ?

Blurb

Wealthy businessman and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of thirteen fantasies he is intent on turning into reality. Travelling between his London flat, his plush Oxfordshire mansion, and Discreet, his favourite S&M club; Mark is helped to realise his imaginatively dark erotic desires by two loyal members of his staff. His Personal Assistant, Anya Grant, and his Housekeeper, Clara Hooper.

Upon the backs of his willing slaves, Mark has written out his fantasy list in thick red pen. Only Fantasy 12 awaits the tick of completion against their flesh before Mark’s ultimate fantasy – Fantasy 13- can take place.

But have the girls performed well enough to succeed in the final challenge? And what hold does the Bridge’s Gentleman’s Club, Anya’s previous employer, have over Mark? A place Anya was only too delighted to escape from.

In order to find out, Mark’s girls are going to have to face some of the fantasies they thought they’d left behind them all over again; and while they do, Mark will watch…

Here’s an extract to tickle those visual taste buds… To their horror, Anya and Clara have just been told that they have to repeat many of the fantasies they thought they’d left behind them. In this section of Chapter 3 we find the girls about to retake Fantasy 2, while Mark looks on. It’s torture by erotica…

…Reclining in his chair, Mark raised his arm as if he was about to start a race, and gave the first order. ‘Strip.’

With practice born of repetition, the women divested themselves of their clothing, heaping their discarded garments onto the bed behind them.

Mark took a moment to study his staff, and then pointed to the foot of the four-poster bed. Understanding the unspoken request, the women stood, face to face, one metre apart.

Anya could feel her heart rate quicken further as she regarded Clara. It didn’t matter that she had enjoyed the feel of Clara’s skin a hundred times before; all that mattered was feeling it again, and soon.

‘As you will remember, you must remain exactly where you are, without touching each other, without making a sound. All you have to do is listen and refrain from moving.’ Picking up a well-thumbed paperback of erotic short stories from the bedside table, Mark took his time leafing through the pages to find the section he’d decided to narrate to his staff.

‘Even though Gail had been expecting it, the ring of the doorbell still made her jump. Wiping her palms apprehensively down the back of her jeans, she went to greet her guest.

‘The smile that met Gail as she opened the door turned into a beam of approval as Becky’s eyes scanned Gail’s snug-fitting red top and black jeans as if she had X-ray vision. “Wow, that’s one sexy vest, honey.”

‘Gail’s face flushed, but she managed to swallow back her natural inclination to dismiss a compliment, and let her own eyes roam over her visitor. Becky, in blue jeans and a plain black figure-hugging T-shirt, which displayed her cleavage to perfection, looked fantastic. Her recently washed and fluffed hair smelt mildly of lemon, and her face looked fresh and keen.

‘“You look pretty hot yourself, come in.” Becky followed her host into the small hallway that led to the lounge.

‘Gail was thankful for the background music she’d put on, for now they were here, face to face, just out of arm’s reach, an awkward tension hung in the air. They simply didn’t know what to say to each other. Surprising herself by being the one to break the silence, Gail spoke quietly. “This is ridiculous. Come here.” Catching hold of Becky’s hand, feeling how cold it was despite the heat of the room, she pulled her down onto the short blue sofa.

‘They still didn’t talk, but now it didn’t matter. As Gail sat, her legs hooked up under her, her body whorled toward Becky, everything within her immediate sight became blurred around the edges; this girl’s face, her clear green eyes, her mouth, the hands that began to reach out to Gail …

‘As Becky’s fingers reached her cheeks, Gail was snapped back to reality by their tender touch on her pale flesh. Placing her own hands on Becky’s shoulders, Gail ran them up each side of her neck, until she was cupping her face. The desire to kiss this person, this woman, was overwhelming. As her face came to Gail’s, Becky muttered, “You still want to?”

‘“Oh yes.” Gail hardly even breathed the words as their lips came together and their eyes closed.

‘The goose-pimples that had been spotting Gail’s arms tingled, and every nerve-ending flickered as a supple tongue darted against her mouth, and soft hair stroked her face. Her lips would have been happy to keep doing this, to kiss this person endlessly, but Gail’s body had other ideas, and after a few moments she could no longer sustain the leisurely pace.

‘Her kisses became firmer, and Becky, picking up on Gail’s urgency, reciprocated with equal fervour. Their hands, everywhere at once, began a thorough exploration of each other. Kneading tits, sliding hands beneath shirts to feel bare skin against their virgin fingers, nipping at each other’s neck, trailing hands lower, caressing crotches through thick denim, they touched whatever they could reach without giving up the kissing that became more and more passionate.

‘Finally breaking away, panting, their eyes serious but twinkling with mutual lust, they stood up …’

As he read, Mark, who knew the passage he was reciting so well that he really didn’t need to have the book in front of him, watched the girls’ bodies react; their teats hardening, their breasts swelling. Gratified that they hadn’t yet wavered from their position, he launched back into the manuscript, continuing to observe Anya and Clara carefully as he read …

‘Reaching out again, Becky dragged Gail’s top from her shoulders. Copying the action, Gail drew a long deep breath as she saw Becky’s black lace chemise, an exhalation that was echoed by Becky, whose emerald gaze had locked on to Gail’s bright red satin bra. Only a second’s visual appreciation passed, however, as, with unspoken understanding, they freed their breasts.

‘Gail’s hands leapt to her companion’s perfectly round yielding chest. As she made contact with Becky’s globes, the neat beige tips pushed back against her palms. Becky let out a husky groan of yearning, bringing her own hands to the other woman, her little fingers rubbing around Gail’s dark areolas in delectably torturous circles.

‘Desperate to find out if the taste of a tit was as she imaged it to be, Gail knocked Becky’s hands away, her lips rushing forward on a collision course for her guest’s right nipple. The texture of female flesh between her teeth sent a thrill gushing through her, turning Gail’s pussy from damp to wet as she gently kissed all around the teat. Savouring Becky’s sigh of contentment, Gail turned her caresses to pinches and bites, making her lover gasp as her hands continued their investigation of the mouth-watering body that was responding to her so readily. A voice at the back of Gail’s mind was asking her how the hell she knew what to do, but she ignored it, more concerned with continuing her research.

‘Becky’s arms hung limp at her sides as Gail pushed her back onto the sofa, lifted her hips, and began to pull down her jeans.

‘Gail’s throat became Sahara dry as she revealed Becky’s ruby and silver-studded naval. Pausing to kiss it, she continued removing the denims until she was faced with a beautiful, black lace-covered pussy. Nothing mattered now except seeing what lay under that small triangle of fabric. With a quick glance at Becky to make sure she still wanted to proceed, Gail pressed a firm palm over the knickers, feeling her stomach muscles quiver as she ran a single finger beneath the waistband. Becky’s breathing became laboured as Gail peeled the lace away from her crotch.

‘The smoothly shaven pussy that met Gail’s eyes seemed to ask for attention all on its own. Gail’s fingers obliged, examining its secret folds. Her touch revelled in the unfamiliar sensations, and her nose instantly loved the sweet aroma as her fingers uncovered the erect clit. Leaning closer, Gail blew air across its tip, making Becky whimper as moist lips met her pussy. Lapping up the sweet juices with delight, Gail’s hands snaked up Becky, massaging each breast.

‘Murmuring her pleasure with short mewls, Becky’s body began to jerk. Her involuntary movements increased as Gail speeded her caresses, gliding a finger inside the wet snatch, as Becky, with a cry of joy, came around the thin digit while Gail continued to stimulate her clit …’

Anya’s toes clenched as she fought the urge to shuffle her feet. Her entire body could feel the echo of Becky and Gail’s imagined stimulation. Before the reading had started, Anya had adopted the position experience had taught her she could maintain for a long time, with her hands together in front of her. Now, as Mark’s words slunk over her, the PA felt her sticky palms suction together. Resolute that she would not fail, she was equally desperate to touch Clara. Anya began to wish that she had focused her eyes on her lover’s feet rather than on her slim, porcelain waist and perfectly oval naval.

Clara, her neck bent, was studying the patch of carpet just in front of Anya’s painted toenails. Her hands, linked behind her back, dug into her palms as she did her best to block out Mark’s low, sensual voice; trying to think about anything but the intensely erotic scenario that was being read to them.

Distracting herself, Anya began to mull over where Mark had hidden the stopwatch. She was sure there’d be one hidden somewhere, counting off the seconds until either she or Clara caved in and moved. It was probably in his pocket, but Anya didn’t dare lift her gaze enough to see if the tell-tale circular bulge to his jeans pocket was there.

As Mark lingered over a paragraph detailing the fictional women licking each other out, Anya’s crotch twitched faster. She could almost feel the described contact for herself, and guessed from the visible tensing of her stomach muscles that Clara was fighting a similar battle.

Trying hard not to dwell on how wet her partner might be, and wishing she’d been bound so that her forced inactivity was easier, Anya attempted to picture the pile of paperwork on her desk, and the massive number of emails that would be cluttering up her inbox while she was away from the office. Yet her attempts at such practical thoughts were washed away by Mark’s kinky recital …

‘Gail couldn’t believe how incredible it felt, as a girl stroked her inner thighs and snatch with languid strokes of her agile tongue. Unable to keep her hands still, she reached down to the top of Becky’s head, but, unable to reach her, moved her fingers to her own breasts, massaging them in time to the gloriously frustrating movements between her legs …’

It was Clara’s foot that shifted first. Just a tiny fraction. If Mark hadn’t been expecting it then it might have gone unnoticed, but he remembered how Fantasy 2 had ended last time, with the minor wriggle of his housekeeper’s toes, and it was with an expressionless dip of his head that he witnessed history repeating itself.

Clara inwardly cursed her unbidden movement. She was sure she had managed to remain motionless for longer than she had last time, but the proximity of Anya, and the temptation of the words Mark had been weaving around them, had been too much.

Now that Clara had moved, Anya felt the tension ease from her rigid frame, and risked flexing her fingers a little. Mark’s cut-glass voice ripped through the sound of the soloist singing her haunting tones from the stereo. ‘I expected you to last longer, Miss Hooper. You have six months more experience than you had the last time you took this test.’

Instantly both girls became stock still in the face of their boss’s disappointment.

‘I have not finished reading. You will take one step closer to each other. You will not touch each other.’

Anya could almost taste Clara’s skin, it was so close, and the heady aroma of her partner’s snatch was wafting temptingly toward her. Mark resumed the torturously arousing monologue as she battled harder than ever not to grab the woman in front of her…

***

If you want to find out how Anya and Clara came to work for Mark, and what other challenges they have to endure, you can buy The Voyeur from –

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

GooglePlay

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xx

Something for the Bank Holiday Weekend: The Voyeur

When it comes to a long weekend, there is nothing like an adventure to sink your teeth into…

Why not escape into a little kink, and enjoy my BDSM, psychological, menage romance The Voyeur ?

Blurb

Wealthy businessman and committed voyeur, Mark Parker, has a list of thirteen fantasies he is intent on turning into reality. Travelling between his London flat, his plush Oxfordshire mansion, and Discreet, his favourite S&M club; Mark is helped to realise his imaginatively dark erotic desires by two loyal members of his staff. His Personal Assistant, Anya Grant, and his Housekeeper, Clara Hooper.

Upon the backs of his willing slaves, Mark has written out his fantasy list in thick red pen. Only Fantasy 12 awaits the tick of completion against their flesh before Mark’s ultimate fantasy – Fantasy 13- can take place.

But have the girls performed well enough to succeed in the final challenge? And what hold does the Bridge’s Gentleman’s Club, Anya’s previous employer, have over Mark? A place Anya was only too delighted to escape from.

In order to find out, Mark’s girls are going to have to face some of the fantasies they thought they’d left behind them all over again; and while they do, Mark will watch…

 

Here’s an extract to tickle those visual taste buds… To their horror, Anya and Clara have just been told that they have to repeat many of the fantasies they thought they’d left behind them. In this section of Chapter 3 we find the girls about to retake Fantasy 2, while Mark looks on. It’s torture by erotica…

…Reclining in his chair, Mark raised his arm as if he was about to start a race, and gave the first order. ‘Strip.’

With practice born of repetition, the women divested themselves of their clothing, heaping their discarded garments onto the bed behind them.

Mark took a moment to study his staff, and then pointed to the foot of the four-poster bed. Understanding the unspoken request, the women stood, face to face, one metre apart.

Anya could feel her heart rate quicken further as she regarded Clara. It didn’t matter that she had enjoyed the feel of Clara’s skin a hundred times before; all that mattered was feeling it again, and soon.

‘As you will remember, you must remain exactly where you are, without touching each other, without making a sound. All you have to do is listen and refrain from moving.’ Picking up a well-thumbed paperback of erotic short stories from the bedside table, Mark took his time leafing through the pages to find the section he’d decided to narrate to his staff.

‘Even though Gail had been expecting it, the ring of the doorbell still made her jump. Wiping her palms apprehensively down the back of her jeans, she went to greet her guest.

‘The smile that met Gail as she opened the door turned into a beam of approval as Becky’s eyes scanned Gail’s snug-fitting red top and black jeans as if she had X-ray vision. “Wow, that’s one sexy vest, honey.”

‘Gail’s face flushed, but she managed to swallow back her natural inclination to dismiss a compliment, and let her own eyes roam over her visitor. Becky, in blue jeans and a plain black figure-hugging T-shirt, which displayed her cleavage to perfection, looked fantastic. Her recently washed and fluffed hair smelt mildly of lemon, and her face looked fresh and keen.

‘“You look pretty hot yourself, come in.” Becky followed her host into the small hallway that led to the lounge.

‘Gail was thankful for the background music she’d put on, for now they were here, face to face, just out of arm’s reach, an awkward tension hung in the air. They simply didn’t know what to say to each other. Surprising herself by being the one to break the silence, Gail spoke quietly. “This is ridiculous. Come here.” Catching hold of Becky’s hand, feeling how cold it was despite the heat of the room, she pulled her down onto the short blue sofa.

‘They still didn’t talk, but now it didn’t matter. As Gail sat, her legs hooked up under her, her body whorled toward Becky, everything within her immediate sight became blurred around the edges; this girl’s face, her clear green eyes, her mouth, the hands that began to reach out to Gail …

‘As Becky’s fingers reached her cheeks, Gail was snapped back to reality by their tender touch on her pale flesh. Placing her own hands on Becky’s shoulders, Gail ran them up each side of her neck, until she was cupping her face. The desire to kiss this person, this woman, was overwhelming. As her face came to Gail’s, Becky muttered, “You still want to?”

‘“Oh yes.” Gail hardly even breathed the words as their lips came together and their eyes closed.

‘The goose-pimples that had been spotting Gail’s arms tingled, and every nerve-ending flickered as a supple tongue darted against her mouth, and soft hair stroked her face. Her lips would have been happy to keep doing this, to kiss this person endlessly, but Gail’s body had other ideas, and after a few moments she could no longer sustain the leisurely pace.

‘Her kisses became firmer, and Becky, picking up on Gail’s urgency, reciprocated with equal fervour. Their hands, everywhere at once, began a thorough exploration of each other. Kneading tits, sliding hands beneath shirts to feel bare skin against their virgin fingers, nipping at each other’s neck, trailing hands lower, caressing crotches through thick denim, they touched whatever they could reach without giving up the kissing that became more and more passionate.

‘Finally breaking away, panting, their eyes serious but twinkling with mutual lust, they stood up …’

As he read, Mark, who knew the passage he was reciting so well that he really didn’t need to have the book in front of him, watched the girls’ bodies react; their teats hardening, their breasts swelling. Gratified that they hadn’t yet wavered from their position, he launched back into the manuscript, continuing to observe Anya and Clara carefully as he read …

‘Reaching out again, Becky dragged Gail’s top from her shoulders. Copying the action, Gail drew a long deep breath as she saw Becky’s black lace chemise, an exhalation that was echoed by Becky, whose emerald gaze had locked on to Gail’s bright red satin bra. Only a second’s visual appreciation passed, however, as, with unspoken understanding, they freed their breasts.

‘Gail’s hands leapt to her companion’s perfectly round yielding chest. As she made contact with Becky’s globes, the neat beige tips pushed back against her palms. Becky let out a husky groan of yearning, bringing her own hands to the other woman, her little fingers rubbing around Gail’s dark areolas in delectably torturous circles.

‘Desperate to find out if the taste of a tit was as she imaged it to be, Gail knocked Becky’s hands away, her lips rushing forward on a collision course for her guest’s right nipple. The texture of female flesh between her teeth sent a thrill gushing through her, turning Gail’s pussy from damp to wet as she gently kissed all around the teat. Savouring Becky’s sigh of contentment, Gail turned her caresses to pinches and bites, making her lover gasp as her hands continued their investigation of the mouth-watering body that was responding to her so readily. A voice at the back of Gail’s mind was asking her how the hell she knew what to do, but she ignored it, more concerned with continuing her research.

‘Becky’s arms hung limp at her sides as Gail pushed her back onto the sofa, lifted her hips, and began to pull down her jeans.

‘Gail’s throat became Sahara dry as she revealed Becky’s ruby and silver-studded naval. Pausing to kiss it, she continued removing the denims until she was faced with a beautiful, black lace-covered pussy. Nothing mattered now except seeing what lay under that small triangle of fabric. With a quick glance at Becky to make sure she still wanted to proceed, Gail pressed a firm palm over the knickers, feeling her stomach muscles quiver as she ran a single finger beneath the waistband. Becky’s breathing became laboured as Gail peeled the lace away from her crotch.

‘The smoothly shaven pussy that met Gail’s eyes seemed to ask for attention all on its own. Gail’s fingers obliged, examining its secret folds. Her touch revelled in the unfamiliar sensations, and her nose instantly loved the sweet aroma as her fingers uncovered the erect clit. Leaning closer, Gail blew air across its tip, making Becky whimper as moist lips met her pussy. Lapping up the sweet juices with delight, Gail’s hands snaked up Becky, massaging each breast.

‘Murmuring her pleasure with short mewls, Becky’s body began to jerk. Her involuntary movements increased as Gail speeded her caresses, gliding a finger inside the wet snatch, as Becky, with a cry of joy, came around the thin digit while Gail continued to stimulate her clit …’

Anya’s toes clenched as she fought the urge to shuffle her feet. Her entire body could feel the echo of Becky and Gail’s imagined stimulation. Before the reading had started, Anya had adopted the position experience had taught her she could maintain for a long time, with her hands together in front of her. Now, as Mark’s words slunk over her, the PA felt her sticky palms suction together. Resolute that she would not fail, she was equally desperate to touch Clara. Anya began to wish that she had focused her eyes on her lover’s feet rather than on her slim, porcelain waist and perfectly oval naval.

Clara, her neck bent, was studying the patch of carpet just in front of Anya’s painted toenails. Her hands, linked behind her back, dug into her palms as she did her best to block out Mark’s low, sensual voice; trying to think about anything but the intensely erotic scenario that was being read to them.

Distracting herself, Anya began to mull over where Mark had hidden the stopwatch. She was sure there’d be one hidden somewhere, counting off the seconds until either she or Clara caved in and moved. It was probably in his pocket, but Anya didn’t dare lift her gaze enough to see if the tell-tale circular bulge to his jeans pocket was there.

As Mark lingered over a paragraph detailing the fictional women licking each other out, Anya’s crotch twitched faster. She could almost feel the described contact for herself, and guessed from the visible tensing of her stomach muscles that Clara was fighting a similar battle.

Trying hard not to dwell on how wet her partner might be, and wishing she’d been bound so that her forced inactivity was easier, Anya attempted to picture the pile of paperwork on her desk, and the massive number of emails that would be cluttering up her inbox while she was away from the office. Yet her attempts at such practical thoughts were washed away by Mark’s kinky recital …

‘Gail couldn’t believe how incredible it felt, as a girl stroked her inner thighs and snatch with languid strokes of her agile tongue. Unable to keep her hands still, she reached down to the top of Becky’s head, but, unable to reach her, moved her fingers to her own breasts, massaging them in time to the gloriously frustrating movements between her legs …’

It was Clara’s foot that shifted first. Just a tiny fraction. If Mark hadn’t been expecting it then it might have gone unnoticed, but he remembered how Fantasy 2 had ended last time, with the minor wriggle of his housekeeper’s toes, and it was with an expressionless dip of his head that he witnessed history repeating itself.

Clara inwardly cursed her unbidden movement. She was sure she had managed to remain motionless for longer than she had last time, but the proximity of Anya, and the temptation of the words Mark had been weaving around them, had been too much.

Now that Clara had moved, Anya felt the tension ease from her rigid frame, and risked flexing her fingers a little. Mark’s cut-glass voice ripped through the sound of the soloist singing her haunting tones from the stereo. ‘I expected you to last longer, Miss Hooper. You have six months more experience than you had the last time you took this test.’

Instantly both girls became stock still in the face of their boss’s disappointment.

‘I have not finished reading. You will take one step closer to each other. You will not touch each other.’

Anya could almost taste Clara’s skin, it was so close, and the heady aroma of her partner’s snatch was wafting temptingly toward her. Mark resumed the torturously arousing monologue as she battled harder than ever not to grab the woman in front of her…

***

If you want to find out how Anya and Clara came to work for Mark, and what other challenges they have to endure, you can buy The Voyeur from –

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Barnes & Noble
iBooks UK
iBooks US
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Happy reading everyone,

Kay xx

Happy 1st Birthday Wednesday

This month sees the first birthday of my ultra kinky psychological, word loving, coffee sipping, threesome filled, sexual behaviour research experimenting novella, Wednesday on Thursday

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…

***

I had so much fun writing Wednesday’s story. I had her adventure in my mind a long time before I had the chance to actually sit down and write it. Such has been the lovely feedback from my readers, that I intend to do a sequel- ‘Thursday on Friday.’ By the time I’ve finished I hope to have covered the whole week…

To help celebrate Wednesday’s birthday, I’m sharing Chapter One…

Wednesday on Thursday

Chapter One

His hands moved so fast that Wednesday didn’t register what was happening until her top was by her ankles. A large palm  came to her neck. She was pinned to the spot, and her bra was tugged down until it lodged beneath her breasts. Then a pair of masculine lips greeted her right nipple.

A delicious wave of climatic shock spun her head with images of what the man with the dark blue eyes might do once he tired of feasting on her chest. Of what it would be like to experience his agile tongue lapping at her pussy, over her butt, around her…

‘Wednesday!’

Snapping out of her recurring fantasy, Wednesday Taylor blushed. ‘Sorry, Carol. I was thinking.’

‘Again?’ Carol smiled. ‘Come on, who is it that’s captured your imagination and lured it away from the paradise of data input? Every time I look at you you’re miles away.’

‘No one. I was planning a holiday.’

‘If you expect me to believe that, then you must think me blind as well as stupid.’ Perching on the edge of Wednesday’s desk, Carol shoved a pile of papers to one side. ‘It’s that guy from the café, isn’t it?’

‘Which guy?’ Wednesday deliberately kept her eyes on her screen.

‘Come off it, Nez. The one who can’t take his eyes off you. Until you take a quick look at him, that is. Then he studies his espresso cup with an expression that suggests he’s trying to work out its molecular structure.’

‘The man to whom you are referring sits in a corner.’ Wednesday flapped away the suggestion with a wave of her hand. ‘He is automatically observing everyone because his seat oversees the entire cafe. I really was contemplating the advantages of Portugal over Spain.’

Carol rolled her eyes and sighed. ‘If you say so, but be careful.’

‘Use a high factor sun screen on the beach, you mean?’

Getting to her feet, Carol seemed to give up on her pursuit of gossip. ‘Seriously, there are rumours about that bloke. He makes me uneasy.’

Winking playfully, Wednesday said, ‘Rumours? Do tell.’

‘I’m serious! Apparently he has this “thing” for words.’

Putting inverted commas around the word “thing” with her hands as she replied, Wednesday laughed, ‘A “thing” for words. Now that is scary. If you’d said he had a “thing” for sharp blades, I’d have been worried.’

‘I’m serious. It’s weird. He doesn’t just watch the women that appeal to him; he sort of visually dissects them. It’s like he’s hunting for something. Or someone.’

Waiting until Carol had returned to her work, Wednesday opened the top drawer of her desk and stared at the napkin she’d slipped in there an hour ago.

That lunchtime, as usual, Wednesday had been trying not to make it obvious that she was watching the coffee guy as he was watching her, when he’d surprised her by a break in his routine. He had got up to leave the cafe exactly two minutes earlier than usual.

As he passed her table en route to the exit he’d almost brushed her shoulder, but not quite. After dropping a napkin lightly onto her lap without uttering a word of explanation, he’d walked out of the door and disappeared into the afternoon.

Back in the safety of her office, regarding the folded serviette as if it were an unexploded bomb, Wednesday felt her palms prickle with perspiration. By comparison, her throat had gone Sahara dry. Even though he hadn’t looked at her as he’d passed by, Wednesday had the strangest sensation that his inkwell eyes saw straight into her soul. That somehow the coffee guy knew what her late night dreams were about.

And who they featured.

Checking to make sure that Carol wasn’t watching her, Wednesday unfolded the note and read the neat looped writing.

I would very much like to see you, Wednesday, on Thursday. I need to check you weren’t burnt.  Regards.

Thursday? That’s tomorrow. But when tomorrow? Did he mean he wanted to apologise for spilling the coffee? If so, why hadn’t he said so before? The accident was days ago. And what did he mean by I need to check?

Wednesday pictured the coffee guy steering her into the nearest secluded area of town, trapping her between a wall and his six foot frame, ripping open her shirt, passing his eyes over her pale flesh to check for burn marks…

A sudden tightening of her chest made Wednesday drop the note and slam her desk drawer shut. If she carried on like this, not only would she fail to get anything done, but she’d be sat in damp panties for the rest of the workday.

Again…

***

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Happy reading!

Kay x

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