You know what’s romantic? Erotic romance. Know where to find the most romantic erotic romance of the year? Best Erotic Romance of the Year, (vol. 1). Know what’s really cool? It’s available today.
Kristina Wright, writer, editor and mistress of Cleis Press’s Best Erotic Romance series, is back with another round-up of the best erotic romance the year has to offer, and I’m proud that one of my stories found a place in it. Ms. Wright pulled together some really beautiful work from established favorites like Emerald and Kiki DeLovely, as well as from newer voices like Renee Luke and Crystal Jordan. You’ll also find gorgeous, sexy pieces from my lovely and talented Pillow Talk colleagues, Tamsin Flowers and Jade A. Waters.
My contribution to Best Erotic Romance of the Year is a story called “The Couch”. It involves a cocktail party, a slightly open door, and yes, a massive leather couch. I’ve included an excerpt below. I hope you enjoy. xx.M
The couch, when they reached it, was even bigger than it looked. She sank into the buttery leather and crossed her legs, feeling like Goldilocks in Papa Bear’s chair. In fact, if she were prone to giggling she would have. Instead, she watched Tom sit down beside her—just close enough to catch a hint of his aftershave. The scent went straight to her head. She felt light-headed, and drunk, though she’d barely touched either the martini or her champagne.
His eyes met hers, and she smiled, allowing the edge of a promise to curve her lips, as she leaned in. God, he smelled good.
“Are you as hard, as I am wet?”
Tom narrowed his eyes. She wasn’t usually so blunt, but they only had one night. She wanted Tom, and she wanted him now.
Daphne shifted, settling her long legs several inches from his. His eyes flickered down over the bare length, and, for the first time that evening, she saw naked heat flare in the genial warmth of his eyes. Civilized Tom. Nothing civilized there. Pushing her advantage, she leaned in bit further and purred right against his ear.
“Are you as hard as I am wet?”
“I thought that’s what you’d said….”
Daphne held her breath as Tom kissed her neck, sparking pleasure through her skin and right into her bones. Her spine flexed, drawing her close.
“I’ve wanted to fuck you since I left Singapore.”
Daphne’s breath caught. Tom had never said he wanted to fuck her before—make love, of course, but never fuck. Daphne turned her face, and nuzzled his lips.
“Kiss me, then.”
The kiss was like him—warm and lovely—with a solid edge beneath. He was holding himself back. Normally, she loved that, loved that he had so much to offer that he could hold some in reserve, but right then, she wanted what was simmering beneath. She wanted more of that edge.
“Do you want to leave,” he murmured against her mouth. He tasted of gin and her perfume.
“No, I don’t,” she said. She had come to the party alone. Thanks to this development, she saw no reason to leave. Not yet.
“I want you to make me come,” she said, “right here on this couch.”
Daphne felt his lips curve against her skin.
“Let me close the door….”
“No,” she said. “Leave it alone.”
Slowly, Tom settled back.
“Are you sure?”
Daphne nodded, loving the mixture of concern and lust in his eyes.
“I’m sure. Now, make me come.”
Tom laid her down. The couch hid them from a casual glance, but anyone could have seen them if walked into the room. A fresh gush of heat pooled between her legs as Tom shifted and kissed her again, but driven by her awareness of the open door, Daphne pushed past his sweetness and nipped his bottom lip. He stiffened, surprised. Then he smiled and nipped her back.
Daphne let her hands slip down from his waist to his hips, which were pressed lightly into hers. She could feel him through layers of silk and wool. He was hard and getting harder despite his easy, playful mouth. She arched against him. He felt so good, fit so well into the cleft between her thighs, that her body began to move, a soft undulation at first, and then a demanding grind. His breath hitched. With a grimace, he lifted his hips away.
“Careful, sweet. Or you’ll ruin the game.”
She smiled, enjoying his admission as he parted her legs and half-reclined between them. Then his hands began to move. Nerve endings fluttered between her legs as her nipples peaked, achy and hard. She tilted her head back and sighed. He touched her as if he had a map of her in his mind…he’d always known how to touch her.
Tom stroked her thigh and coaxed her legs open wider, as the silk of her dress pooled just above her waist. Instinctively, Daphne’s abdomen contracted and her hips tilted in demand. He smiled and kissed her cheek.
“Easy, love. We’ll get there.”
The words dropped into the hollow of her ear, electrifying her skin from collarbone to scalp, and sending a shot of aching heat straight through to her cunt. She bit her lip and gripped his lapel, but he’d already moved on, slipping down her straps of her dress to expose her lovely, teardrop breasts.
Daphne shifted, restless beneath his deliberate hand. She was already going mad, and he hadn’t gotten anywhere near her sex. Words formed in her mouth, but she could only gasp when he dipped his head and took her entire breast in his mouth. He suckled hard, flicked her nipple with his tongue as she, so reserved, so habitually quiet, moaned. I sound like a whore, she thought. But she couldn’t help herself.
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