Friday, June 14, 2013

Free Sample from Jane Smith Divorced 2, my 10,000+ word erotic story, the second in the Jane Smith Divorced Series.

Apparently, free samples pull the people in! Welcome. Please see below for my original paper art cover and my free sample to the new 10,000+ word erotic adventure, the second in the Jane Smith Divorced series.

I promise the usual: good fiction, erotica, adult dating and things like,!

Here is the cover...

He fiddled with the radio until a throaty female voice was singing the blues. I can’t remember the title of the song and I have searched for it with no luck. It didn’t suit the silent and chaotic tension building between us; however, it sat at the crossroads of the bursts of manic energy and periods of exhausted willpower which tortured my body. A song lost to history, I say. With Martin next to me, even for a few those few precious moments, boredom or inaction seemed impossible. I remembered my first fantasy of Martin; I wanted to literally climb onto him. That night, driving in my car, I realized maybe I just needed something to hold onto.
Martin leaned over, his long, thin torso bending over the armrest. “Thanks for dinner,” he whispered as his nose brushed along the ridge of my jaw until he was under my ear. The hairs on my neck jumped to attention as goose bumps rippled across my skin.
“Dinner on me anytime,” I said.
“Maybe I could’ve thanked the right person,” he said. “But I’m guessing your ex-husband never walked in.”
And there it was, out in the open. I smiled.
“I’ll fucking kill you,” I said. My heart pounded in anger and lust. Martin was reaching into my life with ease. 
“Killing me is a bit harsh,” he said as his lips toyed with my neck. “Hurting me a bit could work.” His lips and teeth closed down on the skin below my ear.
Sweet heaven.
I slammed on the brakes, sliding the car onto the shoulder. I had a secret hope that I would throw him against the dashboard, hurt him a little bit. His hand landed on the dash, exposing the long cords of muscles twisting up his taut forearm.  
I was across the car, straddling him. We were kissing frantically; my only thought: get these skinny jeans off of me. The first heel was off but I struggled with second. As I turned to loosen it, he was kissing my neck beneath my hairline, his lips brushing against my spine. A milky black shadow was cast over my eyes. All judgment gone. I got the heel off and turned.
I must’ve skidded to a stop under the only street light for miles. Light cut in at the angle from the window and across the middle of his face, hiding me from his eyes but focusing me on his lips. I kissed him but pulled back. I did it again, building myself up.
I saw it all: my idling car, the streetlight highlighting the flittering leaves as they reached back into the ancient wild. Behind us, the road disappeared into nothing. For the moment, the road ahead was irrelevant. There was only us; the moon and stars were suspended above like some puppet show. At any moment, someone would pull the rope, the curtain would fall. I spoke to make it real: “You are a terribly attractive monster.”
“You are more attractive than you know,” Martin said. “And the more you think you aren’t, the more attractive you become.” It was a compliment for the young but perhaps I was more immature than I thought.
I undid his top button and parted his shirt where his neck dipped inward. I lightly kissed his collar bone and inhaled. He smelled of wood, earthy and clean, a dying lick of cologne. And as I kissed his neck and unbuttoned his shirt, I felt his erection pushing down his leg and against my thigh – reason enough to wear skinny jeans.
Like Pavlov’s dog, I thrust my hips down against it. Being horny is one thing. Being emotional another. Being both was fucking dangerous. I needed to do the hardest possible thing in life. I needed to change and it turned me on even more to think that Martin might help me do it. I was kissing him desperately, fiercely – both of my hands on the side of his face, his jaw, his neck, through his hair.
Jane, Jane, Jane. His voice reached into me and split apart the walls that held back the stranger; she clawed her way out.
“Jesus, Martin,” I said. “I want you. I want you in me.” He wasn’t getting hard anymore. He was thick and hard under my leg. Dizzying heat pushed into my head, driving my senses to a timeless place.
I had his belt undone, his zipper down. I was tugging at his pants, his erection pushing at his underwear. I pulled at the elastic band and as I was about to wrap my fingers around his thick cock, when I found my hands pinned behind my back, his fingers acting like a pair of handcuffs.   
His other hand was undoing my top button and then the next until my sheer blouse was split open. He kissed my chest and then let his lips drift along the top edge of my bra. I imagined riding him, my nipples out and hard. Exposed. 
We could have fun you and me. Couldn't we?” I asked.
You mean now or in general?"
"You know exactly what I mean." I was asking for more of this. I would've made him promise.  
“I think we both know that will come down to you,” Martin said. His hand was around my neck, urging me forward into his mouth. We both knew he was the object of desire, but like any good man, he had the common decency to pretend otherwise.
Without thought of it, my hands tried to break free from his grasp but he clamped down. His fingers nuzzled against my skin and I felt my jeans loosen. He had the button undone. Just push your fingers down, I thought. Just. Touch. It.

And he did. His fingers pushed down, brushing against my...

Please visit me at amazon or nook to read my first story, if you haven't, and to follow the continuing adventures of me and the rest of Jane Smith Divorced 2. I hope you like it. I think you will. 
Be good and be safe,

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