Sasha White

J.J. Massa is another author whose writing hits me every time I read it. No matter if it’s one of her werewolf stories, her cajuns or her male- male romances, every story hit’s the bullseye with emotion, and heat. So ofcourse, I had to get her in on Secret Thoughts:Erotique as well. Here’s what J.J has to say;

I love writing erotica because I have a need to tell the WHOLE story. I love finding two people and following them in the oldest dance—who gives, who takes? It’s so intimate and yet we all do it, one way or another. It’s fascinating to me. Male/Male is exciting whether in a BDSM or D/s relationship, or simply two men, looking for someone to be with. A touch, a smile, will it be accepted? Rejected? Is it forbidden? Ohhh, the angst! I love every second of it. And that’s why I think Secret Thoughts says it all—erotica is someone’s secret thoughts in action.

So, without any further ado:

Office Politics
J.J. Massa

“One moment, Miss Carson, and I’ll…” I faltered, cleared my throat. A slight tapping on my desk had caused me to swivel away from my computer monitor and look up. My new boss, Mr. Weaver, was standing there, arms crossed, golden eyebrow raised as he shook his head side to side. “I’ll check his schedule, ma’am, because I know he’s not in right now.” That was a fine line, of course. If he were truly in, he’d be at his own desk, not mine, right?

Mr. Weaver gave me a nod and a wink, approval. I’m almost ashamed to tell you how good that felt. My chest actually puffed out. No shit. I couldn’t help it, not even if I wanted to. I smiled back.

“He’s good, Jack!” The other man’s voice took me by surprise. It was Fred O’Neil, head of acquisitions. I hadn’t even noticed him. Jack Weaver had that effect on me. “Now, if only he had better legs and bigger tits,” the asshole chortled. “You know, while he sat on your lap and squirmed?” he snickered as the two men passed my desk and walked into Mr. Weaver’s inner sanctum.

I turned away, every bit of my face warm, right up to the tips of my ears. What an image, me on Jack Weaver’s lap. Oh, man! I had to adjust myself, shifting in my chair.

My fingertips were gripping my stiff cock, trying to find a comfortable position, when a heavy palm landed on my shoulder. Oh, god! It could only be… I tipped my head back just slightly. Yep, it was Mr. Weaver. I groaned inside, humiliated.

“Mark, I can tell that O’Neil’s comments made you uncomfortable. Step into my office when he leaves, would you please?”

My hand dropped uselessly to my leg. I couldn’t speak and just nodded. The grip on my shoulder tightened a little and then fell away. I didn’t move, waiting until I heard the muted footfalls, the door open and close, then laughter from the inner office.

Caught like a fly on a pin. Shit, shit, shit! My head dropped forward to the LCD of my monitor. God, I was so busted, so humiliated. Guess he’s got me pegged now.

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Nix Winter is talented in so many ways, one of which is her writing. THE ART OF LOVE is her contribution to the SECRET THOUGHTS:Erotique collection, and here’s a glimpse of her talent.

The Art of Love is a very short short, and not a true fictional story…but it’s such a beautiful piece I had to include it in the collection.

Imagine doubt falling away like silky black ribbons…so that you are open to sexual pleasure and touch.
If your lover is with you, feel their fingers caress where your fingers have just been.
Glide down from your throat to your breasts. So sensitive, full and round, small and pert, very flat, very full, this beautiful part of your body is not beautiful because so many others have been photographed for car ads. You are beautiful here because it is as close to touching your heart that you will want to come. Your heart beats with life, with the power to heal and grow, and as you caress your breasts, encourage that life, welcome it… Do your nipples grow hard? Do they long for the sweet warmth of a lover’s tongue, slowly circling, pulling in? Suckling?

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I don’t really think Beth needs any introduction around here, but I can’t sop myself. She’s my critique partner, my friend, and a very talented and versatile writer. I begged and bribed to get her to contribute to this collection, and I’m so very glad she did. And here’s what she has to say about it;

Secret Thoughts was my first opportunity to dip my toe into the erotica pool. With Sasha’s encouragement, I spread my literary and imaginative wings and flew. Although most of my stories before Secret Thoughts have been hot, I pushed that hot to scorching. I’ve always written historical, then moved into contemporary, but always erotic romance, and always novel or novella length.

I took that one step further and wrote two erotic short stories for Secret Thoughts, one historical and one contemporary. The historical, Southern Heat, was a fantasy of mine (and many others) – sex with an anonymous, sexy stranger. My contemporary, Behind the Hedge, drew me completely out of my comfort zone and into an incredibly sensual world of voyeurism, and hot male/male and female/female sex. Another wild fantasy, watching then participating.

I always love to explore where I haven’t been before and Secret Thoughts: Erotique gave me the horse to ride.

A little bit of Southern Heat from Beth;

Southern Heat — excerpt

Emmeline finally arrived just beside the pond. She pressed her damp, sticky back against the rough bark of the pine and felt a small broken branch pushing into her spine. Ignoring the discomfort, she braced herself to peek around the tree.

And promptly forgot her name.

The moonlight shone through the trees onto the pond like a porch light, illuminating both the water and the wet, naked man.

He was beautiful. It wasn’t a word she had ever applied to a man. But he was.

He was tall and slender with broad shoulders and a matt of hair on his muscular chest. She couldn’t tell the exactly color of his hair, but it was probably blond. He was floating on his back, sweeping his long arms up and down, gently moving from one side of the pond to the other. He looked like a creature of the sea, full of liquid strength and grace.

But what really drew her attention was what was lying between his legs. She’d never seen a naked man before, of that she was certain. She was also certain that his had to be extraordinary. She’d heard the cook talking to the maid about it once before her parents had died and the servants dismissed. They’d called it a “cock”.

His cock was big and reached nearly to his belly button. And what was below them, she heard them call “balls” although they weren’t exactly round, they were covered with hair, probably dark blond in color, and looked like very large plums. Juicy ones.

Suddenly the dampness in her dress wasn’t the only thing wet on her body. She was wet between her legs. Reaching down, she touched herself through her dress and shuddered. She bit her lip to the point of pain to contain a moan. How could just looking at a naked man do this? Her nipples were hard points rubbing against her damp clothing. They were throbbing in tune with her vagina. What had cook called that? Oh, yes, her pussy. The names were naughty and just knowing them was enough to push up her pulse even higher.

She saw him reach the edge of the other side of the pond. He stood, the water sluicing off him to reveal an absolutely perfect behind. It was round, yet firm, and she found herself wanting to run over and caress it, squeeze it…to bite it.

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He came back to me and undid my blouse, and then the front clasp of my bra. Strong hands cupped my breasts and I pressed my ass back into his erection.

Then I heard him pick up the belt. My head snapped back to search his face. He kissed my shoulder and waited. So I took a deep breath, smiled and tilted my ass up to get ready for the sting of leather on my skin.

He laughed. “I take it you’ve done this before.”

I managed a nod.

The strip of black finally touched me, but not in the way I expected. It snaked around my hips and dropped down to capture my thighs. Cold metal went deep into my leg as he buckled it tight, then he helped me get closer to the wall, stopping only when my nipples brushed its clammy surface. He stroked the sides of my tits and watched while his movements dragged the tight dark tips over the dimples of the painted cinderblocks. Then his hands went south and caressed my ass.

The first slap was loud. It echoed through the library and broke the silence I fought to maintain on a daily basis. The next was muffled but solid, making me tingle and buzz with pleasure. The smacks came slowly, like he wanted to make sure I was okay. To know when he’d crossed the line between pleasing and hurting. Hot flickers of sweet pain grew into a flame. My pussy trembled with each new sting and wept with joy down the curves of my inner thighs.

Laura Bacchi has talent. There is no other way to put it. She can write sweet, she can write raw, and she can certainly do edgy! I’m so pleased she accepted my invitation ot be part of the Secret Thoughts: Erotique Collection.

Now, from Laura Bacchi to you: How Prison Helped My Writing

When I hit my mid-thirties, something happened with my hormones. Just one whiff of a guy, any guy, made me weak in the knees. Made me sweat and think horrible, terrible, naughty things and kept me on the edge of instant arousal. It was around this time that I landed a job in an all-male prison.

One horny woman in the midst of hundreds of heavily tattooed sex-deprived men who worked out several hours a day could’ve made for a lethal combination, but it all worked out just fine. I took the prison’s dump of a library and turned it into a haven for the guys, an escape from their dreary, lonely existence. I tossed the mildewed Reader’s Digest Condensed Books from 1976 and gave them New York Times bestsellers, cutting edge fiction, and up-to-date reference books. They in turn gave me respect and, unbeknownst to them, enough fantasy fodder to last for years to come.

But most importantly they taught me things that helped my writing, like keep the dialogue tight. Words mean a lot in prison. They can get you hurt or earn an inmate’s undying gratitude. Whether you’re staff or on the other side of the bars, you have to mean what you say, get to the point, and remember that a little humor goes a long way. You’d better have your words right in a place like this — know when to be funny and when to mean business. While working here, the dialogue in my stories acquired more zing. It got snappier. It got more real. I have the guys in blue to thank for that.

And being around these men taught me that every experience can give you a story. Or lots of stories. You just have to open yourself up to what’s happening around you. Take it all in. From witnessing fights on the yard to relishing in rumors of illicit love between staff and inmates, I ended up with plenty of material to work with. But when I look back on my other jobs, stories were there as well. It took an extreme environment like prison to make me see the richness in life, be it everyday stuff or something extraordinary.

One of my tales in Secret Thoughts: Erotique takes place in a prison. No, none of the things in the story ever happened, but, oh, if they had… When you train for a prison job, they warn you about the inmates, but not the guards. I just love a man in a uniform, and I hope you like Officer Rob Mendoza in “Sanchez Shake-Down.” After reading it, you’ll know some of my most secret thoughts ;)

Visit her Blog to learn more.

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From Secret Thoughts: Erotique contributer Salacious Desires an amazingly sensual writer who knows how to get into your mind, and make you feel

To write the act of sex, the coming together of two individuals, be it soft and sensual or hard and raw, is an honor and a pleasure, but it isn’t always easy. No, truth be told, it can be downright frightening at times.

Why? You ask. Well, for me, the answer is simple really…

Sex, whether it’s laced with love or merely fueled by lust, is by far the most intimate act two people can share, be they lovers or complete strangers, without some semblance of feeling, the act itself becomes baseless and to a degree, clinical. And, to be honest, when I crack open an erotica novel, the last thing I want to read is some clinical dissertation on how Tab “A” fits into Slot “B”. No, what I want are the feelings; the heat and the passion and the sweat and the tears and the come.

And it’s that, capturing those feelings, which makes writing sex so bloody frightening, and so bloody important. But that alone isn’t why I write it.

Awhile back someone, my mother I think, asked me why, with all the genres there are to choose from, I’ve chosen erotica, and to that I replied…

[...To me, erotica is like a love, a lover, a friend, a savior. It is a way to express my feelings, my desires, my wants, my needs, my insecurities and my fears regarding my sexuality through words that aren't meant to merely arouse sexual desires but to stimulate the mind as well, to make the person who's reading those words I've written feel something, anything, it doesn't matter as long as they feel...]

And if, after reading my words, you have felt something, then I’ve done my job.

Here is a teaser from BURN, one of her stories in the Secret Thoughts:Erotique Collection.

… I can feel your cock pressed against me through the soft material of your pants and God, you’re so hot, so hard. It’s intoxicating. Your fingers flex restlessly against my ass and I can’t help but moan.

Your tongue, soft and wet, begins to trace the line of my jaw and as you move up to tease my ear with the very tip of your tongue, you whisper, “I want you.”
I slip my hand between us, cupping you and press the curve of my palm against the rigid length of your cock, “Then take me.” …

BIO: Salacious Desires (http://salaciousdesires.wordpress.com/) is as lovely as she is talented. Visitors to her personal blog will discover not only a woman composed of deliciously supple curves, curled tresses and full, inviting lips, but a sensual sophistication and sexual wit that sets the bar high for others who choose, like her, to share their insights and experiences with sexuality. With but 250 words she can raise your temperature and make you ache splendidly for more.

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Doesn’t the title alone make your imagination quiver in anticaption?

I’m so very excited to annouce my friend’s, Cathryn Fox first single title release TODAY!!! Cathryn is a true sweetheart with a verynaughty imagination, so be sure to check out the first in her Pleasure Games series.

The name of the game is pleasure…Pleasure Games

PUTTING OUT THE FIRE

A dedicated scientist, Laura Manning has an I.Q. that’s off the charts. But beneath her pristine white lab coat is a curvaceous body that craves satisfaction. She finds it hard keeping her mind on the experiment and off what’s under the lab coat of her bad boy research partner, Jay Cutler, whom she’s working with to develop a libido suppressant, an “antidote” for a society gone sex-mad, pumped up and over-stimulated by the miracle of Viagra.

With time running out, Jay offers to act as a human guinea pig, injecting himself with the libido suppressant. Laura’s role requires lingerie, soft music and candlelight. Her job is to entice him, to determine if the suppressant tamps down his desires. Rather than cooling the flames of lust engulfing them, their “antidote” only heats them up and there’s only one scandalous way to deal with it!

Suddenly long days of laboratory work are giving way to sizzling nights of sensual experimentation–and a different kind of “chemistry” that leaves Jay and Laura breathless and gasping for more! Their professional careers may depend upon a successful climax–and there are dangerous competitors determined to steal their research. And maybe their pleasure games have gotten a bit out of control.

But who in her right mind would want to pull the plug on her man’s libido when the loving is this deliciously hot?

READ AN EXCERPT
ORDER FROM AMAZON

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Val stood in the shadowed corner watching Samair as she danced. He hadn’t thought much about her in the few days since they’d first met, but he’d been able to think of nothing else since she’d walked into Risque that night.

The club was pretty busy for a Monday night and he’d watched from his office as she laughed and danced with her friends until the itch under his skin became undeniable. He’d made a quick round of the club, checking in with his doormen and bartenders to see that all was well before he’s found a corner, and searched her out with his gaze.

Dressed in a soft pink top that hugged her upper body and showed off her fantastic cleavage, and some long flowing skirt that hid the curve of her delectable ass, she danced with an enthusiasm and abandon that called to the animal deep within.
As if she sensed his thoughts, she spun around and her gaze landed directly on him. Or on the corner where he stood.

There was no way she could see him in the darkened corner, but it was obvious she knew someone was there, watching her. A defiant and blatantly devilish grin spread across her face and she shook her ass, rubbing back against her partner. The challenge in her gaze was clear. The thrill of the chase fired up inside him. She was out to have a good time, and nothing was going to get in her way.

Raising her hands, she spun in her partner’s arms, did a last rub against him, then walked away, leaving the loser who’d been trying to make a move on her behind on the dance floor.

The thrill of the chase fired up inside him and he stepped out of the shadows to follow her. If she really wanted to misbehave, he was the man for her.

He saw her at the back bar and moved in that direction. When he stepped up behind her, Tommy was just sliding her drink in front of her. With a shake of his head Val signaled the bartender to refuse her money. Before she could turn around, he leaned in and spoke softly against her ear. “What’s number two?”

She did a tight turn, her body brushing erotically against his, and looked up at him. “Number two?”

“On your list of favorite sexual fantasies.”

“Oh, that.” Her baby blue eyes met his dead on. “You thinking of helping me experience the whole thing?”

“Possibly.”

She licked her lips and his cock twitched.

Samair saw the flare of heat in Valentine’s dark eyes and an answering flame licked her insides. The need to dance close to the fire had her reaching out to place a hand low on his belly. His stomach contracted and heat seeped through the silk of his dress shirt to her fingertips, invading her veins.

“I’m not so sure ‘possibly’ is good enough for me to tell you my deepest desires.” She struggled to keep her voice light and flirtatious.

“How about we make a little deal?”

“Deal?”

He moved closer, leaving mere millimeters of space between their bodies as he reached up to brush a lock of hair away from her cheek. “You tell me your fantasies … and I’ll make them come true.”

Samair swallowed, her heart pounding and pussy dampening. This was no boy to be toyed with. Valentine Ward was all man, and the promise in his gaze made it clear he was confident in his abilities to follow through.

Yet, she couldn’t help but try to push a button or two. “Promises, promises.”

He stepped back and tucked his hands into his pockets. His hooded gaze ran over her, making all her pleasure points tingle, and threw out a challenge of his own. “Are you brave enough to see if I can keep my promises?”

Nope, not a boy at all.

A thrill ripped through her at the prospect of having this man willing to do whatever she wanted. “Right now my fantasy is to have you on your knees, with your face buried between my thighs.”

“Done.”

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I think it’s been too long since I psoted a tease, just for the sake of teasing you all.

Damn I love a sensual man. Don’t he just strike you as sensual? The way he’s teasing, and taunting makes me think this is man who knows how to draw things out and enjoy evey touch.

PS: I did a post over at the Access Romance Blog today on Theme Songs. Drop on over there and tell me what You’re theme song is.

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Every now and then I get these scenes in my head. I write them down, andlater one, when I need new story ideas I go back to them and build characters from them. This is one that I used to refresh my muse when I was writing BOUND

He is coming to give me my birthday present. He enters my place, locks the door behind him and walks to the living room where I am waiting. He doesn’t greet me with hugs or kisses…just the words. “On your knees”.
I drop to my knees and he removes his pants. I start by touching, licking and nibbling around his cock. Then I take it into my mouth and start to suck. He lets me do it my way for a while. His hands stroking my hair softly … lovingly. Then his fingers tangle in my hair and he starts to thrust into my mouth. Fucking me. Telling me how much he’s missed my mouth, and me. He uses my mouth then pulls out to come on my neck and chest.
Now, comes time for my present. He knows how much I’ve wanted lots of attention, and how patient I’ve been. He blindfolds me, strips me, restrains my hands and begins to tease. Playing with my body, stroking me, pinching my nipples fondling my breasts. He thinks I’ve been a bad girl. The way I love to suck cock deserves punishment so he bends me over and spanks me for being the slut I am. I take it. I’ll take whatever he wants to give.
Because I take it, he teases me some more. He inserts something into my pussy as he spanks me. A dildo, and occasionally thrusts it in and out.
Then, spanking over, he lays me out and starts to work on me. I am his plaything. Whatever he wants. He plays with my nipples, my pussy, my ass. He reaches for more toys that are nearby and starts to use them on me…vibrating egg on my clit with his cock thrust in and out of my pussy and I come…but it’s not enough for either of us…I’m his.
He turns me over again and fucks me from behind…while he’s fucking me he slips a finger into my ass and fucks me with it in time with his cock until we both come.

Then he hugs me and I know I can be me with him…

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My post on this subject is over at the SEx Blog today. Go read it. :)

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