A (Bitter)sweet and Sexy Treat

Pumpkin Bucket Filled With Various Wrapped CandiesAll Hallows’ Eve is nearly upon us.

Over the past month, I’ve been gorging myself on horror movies (the good and the dreadful) in between the day job, WIP revisions, and writing sprints.

I have so much stuff to share with you, including a brand new erotic story over at Bellesa.co, plus some social media developments and new ways to keep in touch.

Let’s dig in!

First off, I now have a mailing list. If you’d like to be the first to know when I put out a new story or when my next anthology is up for preorder, go ahead and click the subscribe link below. This mailing list isn’t a newsletter so much as a method for sharing news (if that makes sense).

Basically, I’ll only email you when something important is afoot. No spam ever. Promise.

MailingListGraphic2

I also created a Pinterest account where I pin pretty and interesting things like old Victorian homes and sexy people who inspire me. This week it’s half-naked dudes with (and without) beverages.

 

Yummy.

#SistersinSmutScary human silhouette behind a diffuse surface

I have a new post up over at the Sisters in Smut blog called “Busting the Writer’s Ghost.” In keeping with the holiday, I introduce you to my own personal ghosts and explore some common writerly fears and offer advice on how to quell them. If I’m particularly skilled at anything (besides writing smut) it’s being stubborn enough to keep at the dream in the midst of a destructive thought storm.

You can check out that post here.

No tricks, just treats: my new short story from Bellesa.co

spiritualistic seance by candlelight close-up“Haunted Hearts: A Ghost Story” is a bittersweet, sexy—and dare I say haunting—tale about an eccentric widow, Rose Abbot, who taps into the mysterious power of her own grief to reconnect with her late husband.

Written with Alice Hoffman’s Practical Magic and Sarah Addison Allen’s Garden Spells in mind, “Haunted Hearts: A Ghost Story” is brimming with love and bursting with magic.

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Read an excerpt below.

Rose drew the box of Ethan’s ashes into her lap. It was a simple dark wood box with a bronze latch. Not heavy, but substantial enough that she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there. Unable to reconcile how a man who had been larger than life could be made to fit inside such a small vessel, she began looking for a place to set the box down. First, she tried the mantel, but that didn’t feel right. Then Ethan’s trophy case, but that wouldn’t do either.

Cradling the box, Rose wandered the house, making streaks in the dust on the furniture with her fingers. She skimmed her hands over Ethan’s clothes and their shared bookshelves, until a spark like a carpet shock zapped her as she touched one particular volume.

Her grandmother’s grimoire. A heavy tome bursting at its covers with spells and recipes for all manner of ills. She pulled it from the shelf.

Setting the box on the big oak desk, Rose leafed through the well-worn pages until she found what she had unknowingly been looking for: a spell to summon a spirit to you. The instructions, scrawled in her grandmother’s looping hand, said to bundle five sprigs of thyme, twelve strands of the deceased’s hair and one other personal item into a small pouch to be worn around the neck of the caster from noon until the sun went down.

Rose glanced at the clock. It was already half-past eleven.

Acting quickly, she fetched her husband’s hairbrush from the bathroom cabinet. As for the “other item,” she reckoned it couldn’t get more personal than one’s own ashes. For the pouch, she scrabbled together a small drawstring pocket tied with a leather cord. Then, she hurried downstairs to the attached greenhouse, praying the cold outside hadn’t weaseled in and strangled the herbs.

In the kitchen, she got to work threading thyme sprigs with Ethan’s honey-blond hair. Careful not to tear the stitches, she eased the bundle into the drawstring pocket. The ashes dusted her fingers as she gathered up a handful. Careful not to spill, she sprinkled the sandy cremains into the pouch.

With the charm around her neck, Rose parked herself in Ethan’s favorite reading chair and waited.

She waited all afternoon.

As the last of the sun’s rays disappeared behind the garden fence, so too did Rose’s optimism. What had she expected? A phone call from the great beyond? She wasn’t enough of a sucker to believe in Heaven, though she’d been fool enough to think that her strangeness could actually be useful for once.

Ethan wasn’t coming back. That should’ve been obvious.

Tearing the pouch from her neck, Rose marched through the living room and threw open the French doors. Cold air pricked the parts of her not shielded by her nightgown. With a howling snarl, she hurled the pouch out into the snow.

Rose slammed the doors and then slid to the floor, curling in upon herself like a dying spider.

Having sobbed herself to sleep, she didn’t notice the breeze on her skin or the strong arms that carried her up to bed like a child. It wasn’t until she woke squinting into the darkness of her bedroom, confused and disoriented, that she sensed the heat against her back and an arm around her midriff.

“Ethan?”

Lips brushed the nape of her neck. Fear seized like burnt chocolate in her stomach as hope ballooned in her chest. Sliding her hand under the covers, Rose traced the length of the arm across her belly until she found fingers.

“Say something,” she whispered.

The hand on her stomach slid to her breast. She shivered. If this wasn’t Ethan, then it could only be a stranger. Had she forgotten to lock the doors after she’d thrown the pouch into the snow? She couldn’t remember.

Bracing for the fight of her life, Rose balled her fists and turned to confront her silent bedmate.

Moonlight spilled onto the other half of the bed. It was empty.

The spell had worked.

“Wait.” She pawed at the sheets but found no trace of Ethan. “Come back. Come back, I’m here!”

Had she dreamt the feel of his hands and lips, or worse, lost her chance to reunite with her husband?

No. He had to still be around. She just needed a way to make contact.

Rose ran to the kitchen for a shot glass and a marker. Back in the bedroom, she folded up the threadbare rug to reveal a strip of hardwood on which she scrawled an arching alphabet, plus the words YES and NO. She laid the upturned shot glass on the floor and placed her finger on top.

“Ethan, are you still here?”

Nothing happened, not for a good long while, though the air around her felt charged and leaden. As if pushed by an invisible hand, the shot glass slid across the floor to YES.

Rose stared in amazement as the glass spelled out, HELLO ROSIE.

Click the image below to read the rest on Bellesa.co.Male and female hands silhouette, almost touch each-other

Wading In: An Homage to Hot Summer Nights, at Bellesa.co

Beautiful girl is underwater. Woman floating in sea

As summer cedes to fall, I find myself reaching for what I consider to be quintessential “autumn reads.” Ghost stories, psychological thrillers, epic love sagas. I recently finished Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn, which I enjoyed (though not as much as Gone Girl) and my beloved copy of The Time Traveler’s Wife has been whispering to me from its spot on the shelf. The trees are burning gold, and I’ve had to bring the space heater up from the basement so I can continue to write on the porch.

Yes, fall is in the air. But before you pack away the shorts and swimwear, allow me to coax you back into summer’s embrace for a few moments with my new short story, “Wading In.”

Wading In
External link (NSFW)

Once again, I’ve partnered with Bellesa to bring you this steamy story about an independent woman named Lorelai, who has vowed to put her pleasure first in the wake of a difficult break-up.

When the heat of the night reaches a fever pitch, she sneaks into her neighbor’s pool for a midnight skinny dip. To her surprise, she’s not the only one looking to cool off under the cover of darkness: her handsome new neighbor, Will, has the same idea. And while Lorelai doesn’t need a helping hand to get herself off, she can’t help wondering if it might be time to let someone get close enough to touch.

“Strange things happen to your body when you go a long time without physical contact. After the cravings subside, you start to forget what it feels like to be touched…”

Read an excerpt below:

Tossing back the sheet, I rose from the bed and threw on a T-shirt and shorts. Pippa lifted her head from where she lay sprawled out on her dog bed. I told her to stay, then padded downstairs, out the back door and into the night.

The moon was bright enough to see by. I didn’t bother trying the gate in case I tripped the censor light on Alma Crowley’s garage. Instead, I opted for the stepladder I’d been using to paint my shutters.

Once I was over the fence, I moved silently across her yard, though I doubted she could hear me with all her windows closed. Moonlight glinted off the ripples on the built-in pool. Feeling giddy, I stripped out of my tank top and shorts, and made my way around to the shallow end of the pool.

A soft moan floated from my lips as I descended the four large steps. Even at lukewarm, the water felt delicious against my hot skin. Dunking under to wet my hair, I propelled myself toward the center of the pool, then resurfaced. I wiped the water from my eyes and breathed a contented sigh.

“Feels great, doesn’t it?”

“Jesus!” I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Will’s voice. I scanned the water until I spotted him, tucked around the bend in the kidney-shaped pool. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing you are,” he said. “Taking a midnight dip. Sorry if I scared you.”

He didn’t sound sorry. He sounded amused. I moved to cover myself, though I doubted he could see me in the dark. “Why didn’t you announce yourself?”

“Calling out wouldn’t have been very smart, since I’m not supposed to be here. And seeing as how you snuck in over the fence, I’m guessing neither are you.”

“Not exactly.”

Will swam away from the side, pushing himself toward the center, toward me. His teeth glinted. “Honestly? I was admiring the view.”

“Were you, now?” My tongue felt clumsy, too big for my mouth. Figures, the one thing I was trying to avoid would be waiting for me in the place I wasn’t allowed to go. It was like fate was challenging me to sin harder. And there was no denying that Will was sexy as sin.

He sidled up to me, the drops of water on his well-toned chest and arms sparkling like diamonds. “I know you were checking me out on your nightly walks with Pippa.”

I aimed my smile at the water. He’d remembered my dog’s name. “Was I that obvious?”

“No. I only noticed because I was checking you out, too.”

A warm shiver rippled across my skin; I felt as though I’d been dropped into a glass of champagne. I floated onto my back before I recalled that I was naked.

My nipples puckered to tight peaks. I wondered if Will was staring at my breasts, licking his lips and imagining what they might taste like. Arousal skittered like pebbles in a rainstick from the apex of my thighs to the tips of my fingers and toes.

“You know,” he said, “the first time I saw you I couldn’t take my eyes off you, especially your legs.”

My legs had always been one of my best features. I’d often wear skirts when I walked Pippa, hoping Will might notice. I righted myself in the water, planting my feet so I could press my thighs together.

Will swam closer. “I thought about you later that night. About what it would feel like to kneel in front of you on the sidewalk and have you drape your skirt over my head. I wondered what color panties you’d be wearing.”

I wondered if Will could read the desire on my face as clearly as I could read his, plain as white chalk on blacktop. I took a shuddering breath. “Have you thought about me since then?”

Will nodded. “Every night.”

Revisit those hot summer nights with my new erotic short story “Wading In” at Bellesa.co!

Make It Right: A Brand New Erotic Story Now Available on Bellesa.co

MakeitRightCoverI am beyond thrilled to announce that I have a brand new erotic story available on Bellesa.co!

Bellesa is a high-quality porn and sexuality website for women, featuring some of the best videos, sex-positive articles and erotica on the net. Seriously, go check out their offerings. The quality of their stuff is top-notch. I’ve sampled it myself. 😉

And best of all? You can enjoy all of this scintillating content, including my short story “Make It Right,” for FREE!

Kat, the main character in this story, is a café owner with a taste for good coffee, great whisky, and refined men in even finer suits.

Intrigued? Grab yourself a cup of something strong and settle in for a steamy excerpt.

Or, better yet, hop on over to Bellesa to start reading from the beginning.

Excerpt from “Make It Right” by Rachel Woe:

“What about him?” Esteban aims his knife at the bar. I wait a few seconds and then turn.

A dark-skinned man sips beer from a pilsner glass. From this distance, I’d guess him to be at least forty-five. His navy-blue suit is well-fitted, though not as bespoke as Esteban’s Armani. And the way he pauses between drinks to swipe at his phone suggests he’s on his own time. Alone, but not lonely.

“Do you find him handsome?” Esteban asks.

“You know I do.” He wouldn’t have pointed him out otherwise.

Esteban’s gaze narrows. Jealousy was a point of contention throughout his marriage. Since his divorce, he’s worked to recognize the tendency so he can control it instead of the other way around. In doing so, he’s discovered that jealousy turns him on. Aggravation as a means of arousal, a combustive combination.

“Do you think he has a big cock?” His breath is hot on my neck. I don’t have to touch him to know he’s hard, but I reach over anyway.

“Not as big as yours.” I palm Esteban through his trousers, making him hum low in his throat. Occasionally, I can get him so worked-up that he’ll fondle me under the table. Always over my panties; never enough to get me off.

“I bet you’d like to find out.”

Click to read the rest of “Make It Right” on Bellesa.co

This One is Personal: Dancing With Myself, a Self-Love Erotica Anthology

I’ll be honest, dear reader. This one is personal.

My short story “Unconventional Methods” isn’t autobiographical, per se. However, I did delve a great deal into my own experience to write it. I set out to present a relationship between two people, each confronted with their own unique challenges, who have managed to form a deep, tangible connection without the benefits of touch.

Daniel is English, a Dominant, an amputee and a veteran. Sierra is an able-bodied American submissive coping with mental illness. She is a character, a proxy, but her struggle with social anxiety is a reality for many. It has been for me.

In my experience, social anxiety isn’t just a distaste for crowds or feeling awkward at parties. It’s a full-body response, the desperate need to retreat from the moment you step out the door. To quote my protagonist, it’s “Fight-or-flight at the ice cream shop, where the line is long and the pressure is on so you pick the first thing on the menu, though it’s not what you want, and then you hate yourself almost as much as you hate butter-pecan.”

So, why a story about self-loathing in a collection that’s meant to be about self-love?

Because in the face of crippling isolation, our heroine Sierra has found a way to connect. With the aid of a camera, an Internet connection and a little imagination, she and Daniel have fashioned a Dom/sub relationship that works for them. They support each other and accept each other. They love each other, and it is through this mutual acceptance, love, and support that Sierra is able to find the strength to believe in herself.

Self-love. Self-lust. Self-exploration. This anthology is a celebration of the private—and at times, not-so-private—dance we all know the moves to because we’ve been choreographing it since we realized we had bodies and the capacity for pleasure.

It brings me great pleasure to announce that Dancing With Myself, edited by Jillian Boyd for Sexy Little Pages, is now available in print and ebook.

Nine sizzling, sexy stories of self-love and self-discovery, edited by (and with a story from) Jillian Boyd, featuring Dena Hankins, T.C. Mill, Jordan Monroe, Leandra Vane, LN Bey, Jones, Hollis Queens and Rachel Woe.

In this sensually spellbinding collection, nine authors explore just a couple of the ways one can get themselves off – stories that don’t just hone in on the how, but explore the why, and the “oh… oh my.” Dancing with Myself delves into the heads and between the sheets of a long-distance submissive and her dominant, a cam girl reminiscing, an artist entranced with her unusual subjects and many more.

 

Read an excerpt from “Unconventional Methods” below:

His gaze drifts around the screen. “That chemise looks incredible on you, by the way.”

I glance down at the pearlescent silk top and matching shorts. Gone are the tattered tees and flannel pajamas I used to wear to bed. I now have an entire chest of drawers dedicated to undergarments, delicately folded and arranged by color and type. I’ve imagined Daniel running his fingers over the impossibly smooth materials before asking the salespeople to wrap each piece carefully for transport.

My nipples tighten into points, and I know he can see them. The longing in his gaze is unmistakable.

“Stand so I can look at you,” he says. I set the package on the desk and rise, the fabric caressing my skin as I move. “Turn for me.”

I pivot slowly, careful to keep my outfit within the webcam’s view. Every inch of me is an offering, every word from my mouth an homage. By the time I make it back around, he only has one hand on the desk in front of him.

Tension gathers between my thighs. He smooths his closely cropped beard.

“Now,” he says, “let me see those gorgeous nipples.”

My breath catches; my clit throbs. I want to rub myself but he hasn’t ordered me to, and although we’re an ocean apart and my hands are still my own, I will have to wait because that’s what I’ve agreed to do. I slide the chemise’s delicate straps off my shoulders, one by one, then draw the garment away from my breasts.

Daniel holds his tongue between his teeth. “Touch them.”

I lift and knead my breasts. My nipples tingle as I flick them gently with the tips of my forefingers, drawing a line of pleasure from my breasts to my core. I close my eyes and imagine that they’re Daniel’s fingers, Daniel’s palms. A soft moan floats from my mouth.

“Pinch them,” he says. I squeeze my nipples and flinch at the jolt of pain. He leans toward his laptop screen. “Again. Harder.”

I obey, biting my lips together to stop myself from making too much noise.

“God, that makes my cock ache,” he says, eyes half-lidded. I smile. My pain turns him on, and knowing he’s rock-hard and happy turns me on. He sits back in his chair, both hands on the desk in front of him. “You may open your present now.”

Frustration and curiosity vie for space inside me. Curiosity wins.

Hot and bothered? Grab yourself copy of Dancing With Myself today.

 

 

Longtime readers please note: an early version of this story was previously featured in a two-part blog post on this site. It has since been removed and thoroughly revised for publication.

Happy Book Birthday to The Big Book of Submission, Volume 2

The Big Book of Submission, Volume 2 is available now in ebook, with print and audiobook editions to follow. If handsome professors, sex toys, and stubborn submissives are your thing, you’ll want to check out my very sexy erotic short “Continuing Education,” inspired by countless fantasies dreamed up in regrettably less titillating lecture halls of yore.

Really, it’s a wonder I made it through college.

“Panic set in…

Izumi could feel her clit pulsing in anticipation of the orgasm that now dangled out of reach. Perhaps if she were able to rock her hips, but not with all these people here, their knees and shoulders and stale coffee breath pressing in on her.

Miles flashed Izumi a knowing grin. “I hope you were taking notes.”

Read this story and many more in The Big Book of Submission, Vol 2 from Cleis Press!

Whether you’re simply curious about submission or regularly revel in the delights of BDSM, these 69 erotic short stories about submissives will turn you on.

From participating in a musical recital that takes a very kinky turn to making a grocery run while using sex toys to indulging in a risqué office encounter during working hours, these subs delight in obeying (or deliberately disobeying) their masters and mistresses in public and in private. They’re rewarded and punished the most wicked of ways that will leave you breathless. Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, with stories by Selena Kitt, Jade A. Waters, Dorothy Freed, and Sommer Marsden, among other talented writers, The Big Book of Submission, Volume 2 offers arousing tales that delve deep into the thrills of spanking, bondage, power dynamics, service, exhibitionism, erotic adventure, and much more.

Available in ebook from these retailers:

Amazon Kindle U.S. | Nook | Google Play | iBooks | Kobo | Amazon Canada Kindle | Amazon UK Kindle

Pre-order the print edition, coming January 9th:

Amazon U.S. | Barnes and Noble | IndieBound | Amazon Canada | Amazon UK
♥ Audiobook edition coming soon ♥

Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Vol. 3 is finally here!

At last, the erotica anthology Library Journal calls “A stellar compilation that upholds the high standards of its predecessors” is now available across all major digital platforms, with paperback and audiobook editions due out December 2017.

I am exceedingly proud to be included in this collection alongside so many talented writers, veterans and newcomers alike. Editor Rachel Kramer Bussel has done something truly special with this volume, and I’m so grateful to be a part of it.

“With a refreshing variety of characters, configurations, and situations, all 21 stories in the collection deliver without becoming stale or repetitive.” — Publisher’s Weekly, starred review

My story “Weightless” is a contemporary friends-to-lovers erotic short starring Zoe, a new homeowner still tangled amidst the emotional undergrowth of a failed engagement. It’s going to take more than a new address and a fresh coat of paint to cut ties with the painful memories of her past. Fortunately, her best friend and hot handyman, Jackson, has brought along an assortment of tools.

 Read an excerpt from “Weightless” below:

“All right,” he said. “Moment of truth.”

I cracked one eye, then the other, and gasped. My hair was short. Shorter than I could ever recall it being. It framed my face like a winter hat with side flaps. I hardly recognized myself.

“What’s the verdict?” he asked.

I wasn’t sure. However, the plea was, without a doubt, temporary insanity. I shook my head and let the strands fly, tickling my cheeks. I looked like someone else. Someone buoyant, resilient, unburdened.

“More.”

Jackson’s brow arched. “You sure?”

I nodded. He reached for the scissors, and this time, I kept my eyes open. He trimmed another half inch, and then another, checking with me each time. I told him to keep going. Eventually, he grabbed the trimmer. My breath caught as he touched the whirring blades to the back of my neck.

“Someone fancies themselves a barber,” I teased.

“Hush or I’ll give you a faux hawk.”

He undercut the back and sides, stopping a third of the way up my scalp. I nearly melted when he raked his fingers through the longer strands up top. More than once, I had imagined what it might feel like to have Jackson’s big, strong man-hands buried in my hair. Strangely, the gentle scrape of his blunt nails against my scalp felt even better.

“Want me to buzz the rest?”

“No. This is perfect.”

He smiled at my reflection. “What do you wanna do with the braid?”

“I’m not sure.” I petted it like a cat asleep in my lap. “Maybe donate it, if it’s long enough.”

“It’s got to be.” He patted his pockets. “One sec. I left my phone in the other room.”

He strode out to the bedroom. I leaned forward on the stool, studying my head from different angles. The stranger in the mirror squinted and curved her mouth in a decidedly seductive fashion. Somewhere along the line, having been a curvy woman for most of my life, I’d convinced myself that I needed long hair to balance out my heart-shaped face and stop my shoulders looking too broad.

Turns out, it was all bullshit.

My back itched like crazy under my t-shirt; I practically tore the fabric trying to get it off. Sitting there in my bra, I was struck by the implications of what I’d done and what it meant for me: I had removed Chris’s favorite thing about me, and in doing so, had freed myself.

I felt lighter already.

“Minimum length is ten inches—” Jackson halted in the doorway, his gaze dropping to my nipples, which were hard and fully visible through the sheer bra cups.

Warmth spread throughout my face and chest. I’d been so distracted, I hadn’t realized I was wearing lingerie.

“My back was itchy,” I said.

Jackson entered the room slowly and took the shirt from my hands. “I’ll brush you off.”

He dusted my shoulders first, then my neck. The gentle swipe of the cotton across my nape made my eyes water; I wasn’t used to being touched there.

“Jackson,” I said, my voice light as air.

“Yeah?” He wetted his bottom lip, full and naturally rosy. I wondered what it would feel like to kiss him, how he might taste.

“Thank you. For everything.”

He laid a tentative hand on my shoulder. “No prob. I’m glad you like it.”

“I more than like it,” I said, pressing my cheek to his knuckles. I felt exposed, and not just because I was half-naked. Jackson was seeing me—the real me. Raw and imperfect and vulnerable. Then again, perhaps I wasn’t giving him enough credit; he’d always had a sixth sense where my moods were concerned. “Do you like it…or, more than like it?”

His thumb skimmed the back of my neck, a subtle gesture that made me shiver. He touched his lips to the same spot.

“I love it,” he said.

Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Vol. 3 delivers the kind of sexy stories you want most:

Daring, bold, and surprising tales of women who pursue their boundless passions anywhere and everywhere. Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, winner of multiple Independent Publishing Book Awards, these scintillating scenarios turn the tables on how women are “supposed” to behave. Instead, these uninhibited vixens indulge in their favorite fetishes, do deliciously intimate “Body Shots,” and get tied up with “Red Satin Ribbons.” They pose nude, dress up, and roleplay, always obeying their most exhilarating impulses. These lusty ladies take your most cherished, private fantasies—from making a sex tape, to taking part in a thrilling threesome, to having a stud delivered to your door hot and ready—and make them come alive. Written by beloved authors Abigail Barnette, Annabel Joseph, and Charlotte Stein along with several genre newcomers, these are erotic encounters you’ll want to savor again and again and again…

Learn more about the Best Women’s Erotica series and its contributors at BWEoftheYear.com

Grab your digital copy of the best erotica 2017 has to offer from one of these retailers.

Kindle US | Nook | Google Play | iBooks | Kobo
Amazon Canada Kindle | Amazon UK Kindle

Order the print edition.

Amazon US | Bn.com | Powell’s | Books-a-Million | IndieBound
Amazon Canada | Amazon UK

Download the audiobook at Audible.com


In other news…

The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30, Vol. 2 is now available in paperback! To celebrate, I’m releasing an extended excerpt from my kinky contemporary erotic short, “Unfinished Business.”

Click here for an extended excerpt from “Unfinished Business”

♠♥♠