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The Voyeur: ONLY 99p/c until 27th JAN

Fancy a little BDSM romantic thriller…with a menage twist?

Now is your chance to grab the e-version of The Voyeur for ONLY 99p/c

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…

Buy for only 99p/99c until Jan 27th 2019

Amazon UK
Amazon US

Praise for The Voyeur-

“…The Voyeur is the pitch black to E.L. James’ shades. A richly dark erotic thriller which keeps you gripped from it’s sexually charged start and through it’s twist and turns along the way. Kay Jaybee keeps you enthralled as the girls sexual challenges get packed with more eroticism the harder they get and make you start to question whether you want the girls to succeed or not – without knowing the full details and implications.
The Voyeur has you flirting between tension and pleasure until the final climax.” Amazon UK

‘…This is, simply put, Kay Jaybee’s best work to date. It’s imaginative, kinky, sexy and keeps you guessing throughout. So if you’re looking for a well-written, BDSM packed novel with lots of straight and lesbian sex, then you should definitely check out The Voyeur.’ Blog Critics 

‘…A brilliantly creative plot, a wonderful imagination of ideas, relatable characters you feel you want to love and some you want to hate. After the last page I was happily satisfied, a brilliant ending…and no I’m not going to give it away, but you wont be disappointed…’ Midnight Boudoir

‘…The BDSM scenes in this story are blazing hot, one right after another.  One could pose that this is merely one long gratuitous sex scene from start to end.  This would be a wrong conclusion.  Ms. Jaybee starts out with a bang and then delivers a conspiracy which explains the entire story… Ms. Kaybee demonstrates her ability to turn up the heat while weaving a tale of intrigue..’ BookAddict ~ La Crimson Femme  ‘I like a book that starts out strong in the beginning. This book starts out strong and does not hold anything back. It keeps going strong until the end. The characters and plot is well developed…This book may seem like all sex, bondage and everything else but it is more. Kay has created an intriguing book that defiles the ordinary sex book on the market. She has taken characters that are strong and turned them into a submission with loyalty for Mark … Be prepared to an interesting night with your partner while reading. Thanks for a great read Kay.’ Bunny Review

 

‘…What Kay Jaybee does with tremendous artistry is set the scene in her highly-charged novel in two swift paragraphs that made me feel as she had taken me to the edge of the diving board where I plunged nakedly into the whirlpool of Mark Parker’s 12th fantasy.

The writing is confident, assured and Ms Jaybee doesn’t spend words like some profligate gambler but uses them with parsimonious economy – as if, to borrow a phrase, she is writing a telegram and every word has to be paid for. It is not easy within the genre to be original, there is, it has to be said, a certain modus operandi in all sub-dom erotica, but I did appreciate the way Mark spanked Anya and Clara in turn, “one being hit while the other enjoyed a moment’s respite before being struck again.” It gave me a warm feeling all the way down the back of my legs.’ Chloe Thurlow

‘…This is one hot number. The sex scenes are deliciously creative and just plain blazing. The story flows along fairly smoothly and the characters are well-developed. I didn’t particularly care for Mark, I think because he seemed so emotionless most of the time  and I’m not a big fan of f/f action though I don’t hate it. The ultimate secret Mark is harboring is a bit out there, but suspension of belief helps to make it work. All-in-all this is a hot read that provides plenty of fantasy fodder...’ A Voracious Reader

“…This book is not for the faint hearted and if your kink ‘kinky’ then this is for you otherwise be warned … this is not Fifty or even Gideon Cross – Mark Parker is in a world of his own…
An excellent story that had me up most the night to get it finished – I HAD to know what was going to happen.”
Goodreads

Something for the Weekend: The Voyeur

With Christmas approaching fast, and stress levels rising as we all try to finish all those essential jobs before the New Year- while simultaneously shopping and cooking, we need downtime more than ever.

Why not escape into a little kink, and enjoy something for the weekend 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: Making Him Wait

Friday is upon us once more, so it’s time to let the mind escape into a touch of erotic fantasy.

This week I’m sharing a little from the beginning of my high-kink novel, Making Him Wait

…Ignoring the buzz of her mobile phone, Maddie placed the worn stub of charcoal to the side of her easel and took a step back from the girl before her.

Maddie nodded with approval as her newest model – a petite blonde – flexed the muscles she’d been keeping stock still for the previous half hour.

“Control, Freya – at least the appearance of control – is everything.” The artist reached out an affectionate hand to her muse.

Freya rocked a little on her bare feet as Maddie touched her lightly freckled cheek. “No need to look so worried, honey. You are doing brilliantly. It’s a difficult pose to hold for so long.”

“Thank you.” Blushing an endearing shade of pink, Freya lowered the hands she’d nervously clenched before her, giving her employer another chance to see the neat triangle of her semi-shaved pussy.

Maddie, her jeans and t-shirt smeared and spattered with all the mediums of her trade, did not feel the need to mention to Freya that her own knickers were sodden, nor that beneath her holster bra, her nipples were rock hard.

A further buzz from her mobile alerted Maddie to the arrival of another text message. In fact a steady string of muffled noises from her mobile, coming from the pit of her handbag, had been announcing the arrival of texts every ten minutes or so throughout the morning.

Smiling to herself, Maddie continued to disregard her phone and considered the exquisite outline of her companion’s porcelain frame. Most people came to Maddie to be drawn or painted, sometimes as a commission for a lover, husband or wife. Some, however, like Freya, came to the studio as a way of improving their self-confidence. Despite her generally shy demeanour, Freya had proved to be very good at posing as Maddie required and the artist had offered her an occasional job as a life model.

Sometimes Maddie felt she was more therapist than artist – specifically a sex therapist – as men and women alike shared their most intimate secrets while standing on the other side of her easel. Maddie’s studio certainly had the air of an erotic fantasy confessional about it. She wasn’t complaining, however. No other life would do for her now. The job satisfaction Maddie achieved from listening to the dreams and fantasies of others while she recreated them onto canvas, went hand in glove with the personal physical gratification it gave her.

Money being either plentiful or non-existent, depending on the current success of her commissions and sales, Maddie had been forced to develop an alternative form of payment for her models – a reward system for good work. Maddie could tell from the rise and fall of Freya’s chest and the glistening damp skin at the top of her thighs, that she was more than ready to be paid for today’s session.

Closing in on her model, Maddie simultaneously cupped Freya’s slick pussy and left breast with her charcoal-blackened hands, causing an involuntary shiver to ripple through the younger woman’s body.

“Your progress really is outstanding, honey. Few of my models can stay as motionless as you can.” Congratulating Freya on her skill, Maddie left two dark palm prints on the girl’s tits and tapped at the inside of her legs. “Open up. I think you have deserved a treat after all your hard work.”

Gliding her palm over Freya’s mound, Maddie slipped a gentle finger into the slippery canal of the model’s frantically clutching sex, enjoying the murmured mew of contentment that escaped from her lipstick-free mouth.

Pumping gently, the artist brought Freya close to orgasm with steady increases and decreases of pressure – her own mind straying to her mobile. Maddie wondered where Theo was and what he was doing. She knew what he was thinking about. She always knew that. Theo thought about her.

Pushing her happily sex-drugged model onto an armchair, Maddie’s own arousal kicked up a notch as she bent to lick Freya’s nub, swiftly bringing her to the dawn of a shuddering release.

While continuing to take pleasure in the sweet taste of another woman on her lips, Maddie considered how she’d phrase her responses to all the messages Theo had sent and how she’d tell him precisely what and who had held up her replies.

Inhaling Freya’s climactic scent, Maddie’s hands roamed up and over the small, orgasm-jacked body, her thoughts still with Theo. His work-calloused right hand was probably on his dick at that very moment. A heady hit of power consumed Maddie – a power as intense as the climax of the woman panting hard in the chair before her.

Maddie loved making him wait…

****

 

Making Him Wait is published by the fantastic Sinful Press. You can buy it from…

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Making-Him-Wait-Erotica-discipline-ebook/dp/B078ZGKLLV

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Making-Him-Wait-Erotica-discipline-ebook/dp/B078ZGKLLV

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/making-him-wait-4 

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/making-him-wait-kay-jaybee/1127821931?ean=9781910908228

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/making-him-wait/id1336576037?mt=11

Google Play Books: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Kay_

aybee_Making_Him_Wait?id=yZFIDwAAQBAJ

Storytel: https://www.storytel.se/books/143147-Making-Him-Wait 

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Happy reading!

Kay xx

When Three Isn’t A Crowd: The Story of Jo

It’s with a big smile that I welcome Justine Elyot to my blog today as part of her blog tour. It’s been way too long since this mistress of the craft of the erotica had a new book out- I can’t wait to read it.

Hello, I’m Justine Elyot and I’m here to talk to you about my new BDSM menage romance, The Story of Jo.

Hands up if you like a menage! You don’t have to be in a poly relationship to enjoy reading and fantasising about multiple partners – otherwise menage romance would be a lot more niche than it is. It’s popular for a reason. Double the partners, double the fun. And, when it comes to creating drama in a plot, the menage has plenty to bring to the table.

That’s why I couldn’t quite believe I haven’t written a full-on menage novel before. What was I thinking?

The book builds slowly to the menage situation, since I always think this is a dynamic that needs a lot of tender loving care prior to introduction. Jo and Emmett, blissfully happy in their own relationship, invite Emmett’s friend and long-term boss/mentor, Charles Fox, to their housewarming party. Jo and Fox head out to buy an extra bottle of champagne…and things start to happen..

Back at the top of our street, Fox looked both ways before sliding an arm around my waist and pulling me tightly flush against him. The movement was sudden and violent and made me drop the paper bag with the champagne in it on the pavement – happily, it didn’t smash.

“What are you…?”

“Listen,” he said. “We need to talk, don’t we?”

“I can’t…”

“I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to, Jo,” he said.

“Emmett…”

“You love Emmett. Emmett knows you love him. He also knows that I want you.”

“He knows that?”

“He knows it, and he encourages it.”

Encourages it?”

“He told you, didn’t he, about Suzette?”

“Yes.”

“Neither of us minds sharing.”

“This is mad. You think Emmett would be OK with me…and you…?”

“I don’t think it,” said Fox, bending his forehead to mine. “I know it. We’ve discussed it.”

“But not with me!”

“Until now.” Fox’s lips were almost on mine. I could just push mine that little bit further and… “Emmett was worried about scaring you off, if it wasn’t what you wanted. But you’ve given me just about every signal there is that you want me just as much as I want you, so I think perhaps the time has come to raise the subject.”

“Emmett’s just being fair-minded,” I whispered. “Because he had something of yours, he feels he has to repay the debt. You aren’t equal. He sees you as his mentor, his superior officer. He feels obligated to you.”

“That’s not how it is at all. This is how it is – Emmett loves you, you love him, I love him, he loves me, I want you, you want me. It’s not complicated. It’s very, very simple.”

“If it was that simple…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t…know…”

But there was something I did know, and that was how easily Fox made every inhibition slip away, stripping me nude in some kind of dance of the seven emotional veils.

I was still claiming not to know when I opened myself up to his kiss, warming myself against him as if he were a fire, our feet moving aside to accommodate each other. He was unexpectedly well built underneath his shirt, a contrast to my rangy Emmett, and I took pleasure in the difference.

His lips were not the same either, and he had a different way of kissing, harder and less voluptuous, but with such strength behind it that surrender was the only option. I couldn’t have said which kiss I preferred.

Perhaps, after all, variety could be the spice of my life.

“You’re sure Emmett’s all right with this?” I said, gasping as he let me up for air.

“Emmett is the most admirable person I know,” said Fox. “He doesn’t allow room in his head for negative emotions. He doesn’t get jealous, he isn’t insecure, and when he loves somebody, he wants them to be happy. Do you know how incredibly rare that is?”

“Yes, and I know how lucky I am to have found him.”

“He knows you’ll never leave him, and he knows I’d never take you from him.”

“Like with Suzette?”

“Not quite. I never thought she’d be mine for keeps, but that didn’t bother me. This is different – a deeper bond. But look, I’m not going to ask you to decide now. Take as long as you need to think about it. If you decide it’s not for you, nobody will hold it against you. It’s completely up to you.”

He pecked me once more on the lips.

“Your decision,” he whispered, loosening his grip on me and bending to pick up the champagne. “Now, shall we get on?”

The walk back, short as it was, was severely impeded by my burning solar plexus and rubbery legs. How could I snap back into the Jo I had been ten minutes ago? Everything had changed. Nothing was the same.

The swagger of Fox’s stride, the roll of his shoulders a few inches above mine, the lingering sense of his beard on my skin all merged into a kind of hyperreality, making my surroundings vibrate around me.

Six weeks into marriage, and I was already unfaithful, adulterous.

But was I?

Walking back into the house, I was suddenly intensely conscious that my lipstick must have been kissed off, and I put my fingers to my lips in a textbook gesture of guilty concealment.

Emmett clocked it straightaway, his eyes holding mine as Fox dropped the bag on the table and said something about having to be careful opening it, as the bottle had been accidentally dropped.

“I’ll get the glasses from the kitchen,” said Emmett. “Jo…”

He didn’t come up with a pretext to get me in there with him, but I guess we all knew that none was needed.

Away from Fox’s eyes, Emmett pulled me quickly into his arms, putting his own finger to my ruined lips.

“Are you OK?” he whispered.

I couldn’t speak. I looked into his face, loving it more than I had ever done before.

“We need to talk,” I said.

He nodded. “Later, yes,” he said, then he kissed me fiercely. “I love you.”

I felt the brim of tears.

“I love you too,” I said. “So much.”

 Blurb:

 “I met a man called Emmett, and now I belong to him.”

Twenty-something Jo meets Emmett on a team-building course, and her initial disdain for him soon turns into attraction.
With Emmett’s strong but loving hand to guide her, Jo unleashes her inner submissive and they embark on an intense voyage of sexual discovery.
Their mutual fascination sees them exploring bondage, spanking, toys and more, and their romance is as perfect as Jo could hope for, until another man appears on the scene.
She knows that Emmett hero-worships his former boss and mentor, Charles, but when she finds out that Charles is the man who introduced Emmett to the art of domination, she has no idea how to feel.
With fierce desire growing between the three of them, can they find a way to explore this new dynamic without destroying what they already have?

The Story of Jo is available in print and ebook formats:

Amazon: http://smarturl.it/TSoJKindle

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-story-of-jo

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/the-story-of-jo/id1420094618?mt=11

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-story-of-jo-justine-elyot/1128642055?ean=9781910908303

Author bio:

Justine Elyot is the author of best selling erotic novels On Demand and The Business of Pleasure, as well as enough short stories to fill several anthologies.

She can often be found moaning about stuff on Twitter as @JustineElyot

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GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/justine-elyot-3/

Enter for your chance to win a £20/$20 Amazon gift card and a paperback copy of The Story of Jo.

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/8b9ec5be188/? 

***

Happy reading everyone,

Kay xx

 

 

 

OUT SOON: Sneaky Peek of The Voyeur

With only 10 days to go until The Voyeur is re-released, I though you might like- in true voyeuristic style- to have a sneaky peek between its pages, and learn a little about what inspired my darkest novel to date.

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…

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

Of course, once Mark existed in my imagination, I needed to create some willing assistants to make his dreams come true- and so PA Anya (originally Anna), and Housekeeper Clara, were born! Two professional, intelligent women, who think they know exactly what they are letting themselves in for- but do they?

The original Fantasy 13 for Oysters and Chocolate told the stories of Clara and Anna as they experienced their employer’s two-pronged final erotic dream. In The Voyeur however, this original ultimate fantasy, becomes the twelfth item on Mark’s list. He has something far more challenging for his employees to endure for fantasy 13- and a dark motive behind his reason for it…

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 pre-order The Voyeur from –

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

GooglePlay

RE-RELEASE DAY is 24th AUGUST

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Happy reading everyone,

Kay xx

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