The news: I hit number fifteen on Amazon's adult bestseller chart/list thingie! Of course, I know this doesn't mean that I've sold hundreds of copies. I understand that it doesn't mean that much when I fall right back out again five seconds later. I know that Amazon is the place I'm probably selling the most, and everywhere else I'm selling zero copies. But even so- once, in my life, I was in the top twenty of some sort of book chart. My gast is well and truly flabbered by that idea.
Also, the wonderful Coffee Time Romance who really seem to support Black Lace anthologies, in particular, have done a great review of Misbehaviour:
Thank you so much to the reviewer, Lototy, for a considered and lovely review!
And since the lovely Alison Tyler is currently talking about phone sex for her fabulous Fetish Fridays:
I thought I'd post an excerpt from The Things That Make Me Give In in keeping with that theme. It's from my story Phoned In, which is about two friends who find that their relationship has been reduced to long distance. However, it's about to take a turn for something decidedly less friend-like:
She tries again to picture his face, and instead sees his hands. His big, strong hands. His long, long legs as he strides towards the ice-cream parlour. The way his dark jeans had hugged his arse.
What would it be like if he was the boy next door, and she was the slutty neighbour?
‘Are you imagining that you’re the boy next door?’
His reply comes out in a frank sort of burst.
She was wrong. They were never honest with each other. She knows, because that one word is what his real honesty sounds like. Quavering up and down and sad through the middle.
‘What does she feel like?’
‘Good. Soft. Like she really, really wants me.’
‘Are you jerking off again?’
‘I couldn’t stop now even if sudden paralysis descended. I’ve been doing myself every night after a story. I imagined I was the stranger on the beach, too.’
‘Oh, I bet that was nice.’
‘Did her pussy taste good?’
‘Oh it did, it did. I can’t even remember what a wet pussy tastes like, so it was nice to revisit.’
‘I didn’t realise that the stranger on the beach liked it so much.’
‘He does. I did. I love eating out– you know that.’
‘Yes, but only in the non-euphemism sense.’
He groans, but she knows it’s a frustrated sound rather than the other type.
‘Go back to the beach,’ he says.
It’s very easy for her to. There are unanswered questions.
‘Would you have fucked her differently?’
‘Yes.’ The phone clacker-clacks, as though he’s shifting positions. ‘I would have...I want to have her in my lap.’
‘So that I can press myself right up against her. So that she can move against me.’
‘I bet...she’d like that.’
Olive wants to swap the word bet with a different one. Know, maybe. To wrap her legs around someone’s waist and press them to her and have them press back and be able to rock into lovely great thrusts... It makes her keep clutching at her pyjama top. She clutches at it until it’s a big sweaty mess.
‘Don’t say she,’ he says, in a voice now so hoarse it sandpapers against her skin. ‘Say I.’
She presses her thighs together and manages to get it out: just that one word.
It seems to be enough for him however. He pants a yes and then another right into her ear. The panting makes her want to change the words completely.
‘I’d like that,’ she tries. ‘I’d like that.’
‘What else would you like?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Would you like me to stroke you as I fuck you?’
‘Are you fucking me right now?’
‘Imagine that I am. Tell me what it feels like.’
‘Hm. I...good. It feels so good. You feel good and...big.’
‘I bet you say that to all the guys.’
‘I say it to you because you’re inside me, fucking me hard with your big thick cock.’
Unintelligible sounds garble down the phone at her.
‘You are big everywhere, aren’t you?’
‘My dick feels like it’s strangling my hand.’
‘I bet I could hardly get my fingers around it.’
‘Oh, I’d love to see you hardly get your fingers around it.’
‘Do you jerk it hard, or soft? Fast or slow?’
‘Both. One after the other. I’m doing it slow, now, really slow ‘cause I don’t want to come while you’re talking to me like this.’
‘I thought that was the idea– to come while I’m talking like this.’
‘Not yet. I want you to touch yourself, first. I want us to come together. I’d like nothing better than fucking you into a great...big...orgasm.’
‘Say orgasm again.’
And then he stretches the word out like taffy.