Many years ago that filthy book imprinted itself in my erotic subconscious. Now it's reared its head and is about to drag me along for the dirtiest ride of my life.
Out of sight, out of mind. Or so I thought, but it turns out an old, dog-eared book with contents so filthy and so depraved that I'd been forced to hide it after reading, has sank deeper into my erotic subconscious than I'd ever imagined. Luckily though, Jacob is up for exploring the new side of me that has risen to the surface after all these years.
In a whirlwind of wanton adventures that push us to the limits of our sexuality, we begin to re-discover what it once was that had us screaming with pleasure and how to accept that nothing will ever be the same again between us.
Reader Advisory: This book contains bondage, BDSM and an element of dubious consent within a consensually acted out rape scenario.
General Release Date: 14th May 2012
That Filthy Book
It seemed Lady Luck had joined us for our journey, giving the green light for all our needs to be met only three days after my confession of what I really wanted him to do with that branch.
Jacob’s parents had asked if they could take the girls to a circus on Saturday night. It started at eight, didn’t finish until ten, so they’d suggested it was more sensible that they keep them until Sunday morning, possibly Sunday afternoon if the children fancied having a roast dinner with them at the local pub.
I was not about to turn that opportunity down, especially when Jacob had been hot for the idea of outside sex. In fact, he’d been more than up for it, and the excited glint in his eye when I’d held up the carefully stripped bark had sent a tremble to my very core. Something told me I’d hit another very dark and very sinful nerve of his.
But always one to think of others, Jacob had already promised to help a work colleague move house on the Saturday. I didn’t mind too much because it left me with an empty afternoon to prepare for our evening of fun. I started with a pamper accompanied by a glass of wine, treating myself to a cucumber face mask, sugar body scrub, shave—including my pussy—manicure and pedicure and finally a generous slathering of body butter.
It left me feeling tingly and smooth, as if my body was honed and prepared. The thought of my silky, clean skin and perfectly neat red nails out in the open, amongst dirt and leaves, with the sootiness of bark mould smudged randomly over my body had me panting with excitement. I could just imagine mud squelching around my toes and the creamy skin of my wrists worn red by ropes. And the image of my arse marked raw by the branch, well, that had me feeling like a sacrificial offering.
For I knew that this evening I would be handing myself over to nature, to Jacob, and to my own darkest desires. The bare bones of my soul were about to be revealed. No holds barred, no chance to hide. They were the very skeleton of me that only Jacob would ever set eyes on.
When the dipping sun sent lilac and crimson fingers darting over the horizon I was ready—more than ready. I’d had a light tea and another glass of wine, resisted the temptation to masturbate—just—and saved myself for my husband.
The front door opened with a whoosh, then shut with a resounding slam. I spun from the kitchen window where I’d been staring at the darkening copse.
The copse that was ready and waiting.
Heavy footsteps banged down the hall. Loud and resolute, the sound reverberated around my head.
This was it. There was no turning back.
I didn’t want to. Not for anything.
The door swung open, and there he stood, with his broad shoulders filling the frame and his head bowed slightly. He pulled his brows low and set his jaw. A small muscle flexed and unflexed in his cheek.
"Get down on your knees, bitch."
I gasped at the completely thrilling sound of his bad man’s voice and folded my legs until my knees landed on the freshly swept lino. He was so feral, so dominant, not Jacob the protector, the carer. No, tonight I had Jacob the master, the taker, the giver of sinful pleasure.
Between one breath and the next he was in front of me, his groin level with my face and his hands on his hips. The scent of man and hard physical work washed over me, as well as perhaps a hint of a greasy spoon cafe where he’d no doubt been treated to pie and chips for the efforts of his day.
"Take out my cock."
I reached for the buttons on his jeans, surprised to see that my hands trembled. Excitement? Trepidation?
This had not been part of any plan, but I wasn’t complaining. In fact, there wasn’t a plan. All Jacob had asked was that I trust him. He said that he understood what I wanted and would make it all happen for me. Of course, we had a safe word, but I couldn’t imagine I would need it. I trusted Jacob with my life and my pleasure. I always would.
"Hurry up," he said, tangling his fingers in my neatly brushed, softly conditioned hair. "Take it out and suck it."
After I freed his cock, his length sprang into my palm, hot and thick, and the purple veins winding up the shaft bulged with his keen arousal.
In a sharp movement, he jerked forward and the tip slid into my salivating mouth. "Wider, whore," he snarled. "Take me, all of me."
I stretched my jaw and he sank deep, sliding to the back of my throat in one urgent movement. I gagged but he ignored it; pulled back then rode in again, all the time holding my head in a tight, vice-like grip so I had no choice but to take him, tip to base.
I’d sucked on Jacob’s cock a million times, but never had he taken control like this. He was always respectful and deathly still, allowing me to determine depth and pace. But this was different—this was sinful, depraved Jacob fucking my mouth without a thought for my well-being.
I adored it.
Needing support as my body was jostled by his thrusting hips, I gripped his thighs. Saliva ran down my face and neck onto my red blouse, my nose repeatedly buried in his wiry pubic hair. H
e steamed on and on, hissing and cursing above me. Breathing was difficult, my mouth was so chock-full of hard, demanding cock. When I did catch a breath the air was heated and smelt of him, musky and raw.
"Get fucking ready for it," he snarled, thrusting to such a depth his balls slapped against my chin. "I’m going to come down your throat. I’m going to fill you up, now...argh...fuck...now."
He let out a garrotted cry as his cock swelled further, then, in several sweet pulses, copious amounts of fluid gushed over my tongue. I swallowed rapidly, the action tugging the crown of his cock further down my throat.
"Ah, sweet...fucking...Jesus," he hissed, gripping my hair. "That’s it, keep sucking, swallow me."
I did as he asked. My body quivered, and I could almost come myself just from the feel and taste of him climaxing so hard and forcefully. Had he lain there all those millions of times I’d sucked him off, restraining himself? Had he wanted to throw me down and fuck my mouth in a hard, abandoned way, but resisted?
I didn’t have time to dwell on this because Jacob pulled out, gripped my upper arms and dragged me into a standing position. Gasping, I stared into his flushed face. His mouth was parted as he drew in big lungfuls of air. His eyes sparkled, the pupils wide and dilated, showing me the dark depths of his most basic needs.
"That’s just the beginning," he said in a rasping, breathy voice. "To take the edge off what you’ve had me thinking of for three days." He slanted his mouth down hard over mine, taking possession of my lips and tongue in a furious, ravenous kiss. He pulled away abruptly. "You’re such a tease," he muttered, "tempting me, turning me on. Well, now you’re going to get it. You’re going to get punished for making a man want you so bad it hurts his soul."
Lily Harlem
Award-winning, bestselling author Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is a complete floozy when it comes to genres and pairings, writing from male/female contemporary to gay paranormal and everything in between.
One thing you can be sure of when you pick up a Lily book is heat will rise from the pages and you'll be reading late into the night! Enjoy!
Natalie Dae
Natalie Dae is a multi-published author in three pen names writing in several genres. Natalie writes mainly BDSM erotica. She loves a Dom/sub relationship and is fascinated by how it all works. The trust issue is the best thing about it for her, so creating characters who have to adopt trust is one of her priorities. “Watching my characters bloom under tuition is such a treat,” she says. “I find it such a privilege to be able to write about something that makes me learn something new with every book.”
She lives with her husband and youngest daughter in England and spends her spare time reading—always reading!—and her phone, complete with Kindle app, is never far away. “I can't imagine not reading or writing,” she says. “It's a part of who I am. Without it I'd be more than a bit lost.”
Natalie has many more BDSM tales swimming around in her head, so her workload for the future is very full. “What better way to spend a weekend than writing?” she says. “Saturdays are my main writing days, so I get up, open up a work in progress and rarely leave the desk. Unless I really have to!”
She writes at weekends and is a cover artist/head of art in her day job. In another life she was an editor. Her other pen names are Geraldine O’Hara and Sarah Masters. Natalie also co-authors as Sarah Masters with Jaime Samms, and she co-authors with Lily Harlem under the name Harlem Dae.
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