Tag Archives: k d grace

The Writing Experiment by K D Grace (@kd_grace)

When I wrote Toys for Boys, I had already been playing around with placing myself in the story as writer, as scribe. Because I’d walked the Wainwright Coast to Coast, and because I remembered those days when all I wanted at the end of the day was to be warm and dry and asleep in my bed, I already had common ground with Doc and Will and their trials. Writers are always voyeurs to some extent. Certainly we’re always people watchers. And quite often we feel like we’re doing little more than reporting our characters’ stories as they whisper them in our ear. When that happens, it’s always amazing, the unexpected directions a story can take.

I wanted to bring that experience of the characters telling their story to the forefront of Toys for Boys and make it a literal part of the story – sort of share with the reader what we writers experience with our characters on a daily basis. I was very lucky because Will and Doc were more than happy to share.

*****

Toys for BoysHigh tech meets low tech in a wilderness adventure that sizzles.

Toys for Boys Blurb:

Alpha nerd Will Charles teams up with Caridoc ‘Doc’ Jones in a coast to coast walk across England reviewing outdoor gift suggestions for the Christmas edition of Toys for Boys—an online magazine dedicated to the latest gadgets to tickle a man’s fancy. Will is recording their adventures with the latest smart phone technology. Doc is reviewing the latest outdoor gear. The two quickly discover the great outdoors provides even better toys for boys, toys best shared al fresco, toys that, in spite of Will’s great camera work, will never be reviewed in Toys for Boys.

Note: Toys for Boys has been previously published as part of the Brit Boys: With Toys boxed set.

Buy Toys for Boys Here:

Universal Amazon link: http://mybook.to/toysforboys

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2jPjrN2

iBooks: http://apple.co/2jpYvxK

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2kbYbQa

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2kmFbRg

*****

Excerpt:

In that drowsy disconnected place between sleep and wakefulness, Doc was aware of only two things; the warm, hard body he held against his chest in a spoon position, and the fact that his hard-on was pressed up nice and tight between the pillowed muscles of two firm arse cheeks, Will fucking Charles’ arse cheeks and, damn if he wasn’t shifting and shoving against the bloke like some horny dog.

Suddenly he was wide awake as the events of the past day came flooding back to him. He stopped moving, stopped breathing, feeling the beat of his heart in the leaden weight of his balls. He lay with one arm folded beneath his head like a plucked chicken wing, and just as goose bumped for being outside the warmth of the sleeping bag. He held Will secure against his body with the other arm, which curved low over Will’s hip, low enough that he could cup the man’s sac in his palm. The soft tickle of pubic curls against his fingertips assured him, to his horror, that was exactly what he was doing.

Before he could withdraw from the bloke’s personal space, Will fucking Charles shifted slightly and Doc not only found his erection pressed even tighter between clenching buttocks, but the man’s cock was suddenly in full contact with his groping hand, too hard, too warm and silky smooth for him to ignore. Before he could make a conscious decision of what to do, Will made the choice for him, moaning in some dream, which Doc could only imagine was partly responsible for the urgency of the bloke’s hard-on. He shifted again and curled his fingers, vice-grip tight around Doc’s, effectively securing his clench on his penis, demonstrating how he liked to be touched, then he began to thrust with purpose in and out of Doc’s hand.

Fucking hell! Doc was not about to take advantage of a sleeping man, no matter how tempting. He held his breath, held dead still, which took a gargantuan amount of concentration, the ache in his own cock at least as urgent. He’d never be able to explain the situation to Will if he woke up like this. It was taking advantage. His thoughts flashed on the shivering, nearly incoherent, man he’d held to him last night, praying to all the gods of the great outdoors that his body heat would bring the man’s temperature up. And just when he was about run the risk of embarrassing both of them by waking Will, the bloke once again took the choice out of his hands, quite literally, by moving his own hand down to cup his cock himself.

Doc jerked away a little more quickly than he intended. Will caught his breath and thrust back against Doc’s aching load, and that was it. Doc was scrambling out of the sleeping bag, battling with the zip to the tent, holding on with all the self-control he had.

“You all right?” Will’s sleepy voice called after him as he shoved his way out of the tent.

“Gotta pee,” he managed, which was the truth, but nothing was going to happen until he took care of more urgent needs. He managed half a dozen steps, tripped over a tree root and went down on one knee in the wet leaf litter.

“Fuck me!” he heard Will gasp from behind him. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if he suddenly found himself on a stage in the West End amid a line of dancing girls doing the can-can for a packed house. Urgent had become critical and there was nothing to do but hold on for dear life and let nature take its course. Jerking at his cock with a choke hold—one thrust, two, and three, and his whole body tightened and convulsed. Vesuvius erupted. And kept erupting until he feared the effort would turn him inside out. Even as the chill of morning bathed his back in goose flesh, the front of his body still held the heat, the muscle memory of clenching Will tight against him.

“Fuck me sideways!”

Breathing like a hurricane, Doc fell back on his arse in the wet grass and looked up to see Will fucking Charles standing bare arsed in front of the tent having his own eruption in one hand while the other aimed the goddamned urBrain at Doc.

When Will had finished shooting his wad, he knelt and wiped his hand on the wet grass. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he managed, still struggling to breathe. His eyes were bright with mischief, and his lips parted in just such a way that Doc had a sudden urge to bite the bottom one before he covered that mouth with his own. That desire was quickly superseded, however, by the urge to throttle the bastard.

“I should have left you outside to freeze your balls off last night.” Doc forced his way to his feet.

“Oh God, you have to see this, mate.” Will was already watching the playback.

“Fuck you, William! This isn’t over.” As an afterthought, he reached out and viciously pinched the man’s nipple, which was chilled to a hard peak from the slight morning breeze. The catch of breath and the little hiss of pain caused his cock to surge again. “This isn’t over, you bastard.”

“I’m counting on it!” Will called after him.

He headed down to the stream to clean up. “And if you point that thing at me again, I’ll make you eat it.”

“If you’re talking about urBrain, well I suppose I could try. I’m pretty good at opening my throat. But if you’re talking about this,” he reached down and waved his cock in a rude gesture. “Afraid I’m gonna have to rely on you for that.”

Fucking hell, if the man kept it up, Doc was gonna need another wank before they even got to breakfast.

He caught a hint of hearty laughter before he stepped into the icy stream, and in spite of the awkward wake-up call, he found himself smiling too. The man had thrown down the gauntlet and then given him permission to play. This walk was really looking up.

*****

About K D Grace/Grace Marshall

Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She loves mythology. She enjoys spending time in the gym – right now she’s having a mad affair with a pair of kettle bells. She loves to read, watch birds and do anything that gets her outdoors.

KD has erotica published with Totally Bound, SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, To Rome with Lust, and The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition, Interviewing Wade are all available.

Find K D Here:                                                                  

Websites: http://kdgrace.co.uk/

http://www.thebritbabes.co.uk

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KD_Grace

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/kdgraceauthor/

Release blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.

British Bad Boys Boxed Set Available for Pre-Order! #99c #99p #preorder

Hi folks,

You might have already heard whispers about this on social media (or possibly excitable shouting), but I wanted to sit down and write a blog post about it. So… yeah… the British Bad Boys boxed set is happening! It’s all come together very quickly, and I confess my head is spinning a little bit, but I’m delighted! This contemporary romance boxed set is releasing on 4th May, and contains novellas from yours truly, Marissa Farrar, Tabitha Rayne, Lexie Bay, Lily Harlem, Victoria Blisse and K D Grace. My tale is called Fast Lust, and is about a motorcycle racer (ooh, leather!) and a journalist. Read on for a hint of what to expect…

Blurb:

Indulge yourself with this boxed set of stories written by bestselling and award-winning British romance authors. No one knows British bad boys better than they do!

Come and spend time with a dirty-talking London tattoo artist, a Scottish bad boy, a British gangster who won’t take no for an answer, and MORE! These men are all hotter than hell and have accents to die for. Whatever your desire, you’ll find it within these pages.

Packed full of brand new standalone, steamy stories with no cliff-hangers. With happily-ever-afters guaranteed, you won’t want to miss out on this limited collection, available for a short time only!

 

The set is just 99c/p on pre-order, but this price will go up after release, so to ensure you get the set at this amazing price, pre-order now. All the links are here.

Also, please do add the set to your Goodreads shelves, and “like” our Facebook page for sneak peeks, hot guys, giveaways and more!

Happy Reading,

Lucy x

***

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Out Now – The Psychology of Dreams 101 by K D Grace (@kd_grace)

The Psychology of Dreams 101Blurb:

What if there was punishment when you didn’t dream the right dreams? That’s the dilemma Leah Kent, and her professor, Al Foster must face—dream right, or take the punishment. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a wander into the sexy and dark unconscious as Leah takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required dream journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys. But not all dreams are pleasant ones, and some have far-reaching repercussions in the waking world.

Buy Links:

Amazon (universal link): http://mybook.to/psychofdreams

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2j3KOUv

iBooks: http://apple.co/2i5xBGu

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2iDA7r6

*****

Excerpt:

“Now then, let’s see if we can’t ease the pain in you lovely little bottom before we get on with the spanking, ” Dr. Clyde said before Leah could ask what he meant by his remark about them never getting out of the dream. He rummaged and rattled through the surprising abundance of the desk drawers until he came up with a tube of something she couldn’t see in her bent-over position, but as he unscrewed the lid, she immediately smelled peaches. There was the sound of something squirting, and then she felt the doctor’s large palm spreading cool lotion against her burning butt. She sighed and clenched at the pleasure of it. “There now. That feels better, doesn’t it hon? Just what the doctor ordered. We don’t want that lovely ass of yours too wounded just yet. Your punishment has hardly begun, after all.”

“Peach? Seriously?” Al said, coming closer to observe and sniffing as he did so.

“Yup! And it’s edible too,” Dr. Clyde said. “Taste. Not like that, Dear God, Al, put the tube down, and use your imagination. You’re in a dream for fuck sake! And you,” he turned his attention back to Leah, “you lie still. You’re being punished. You don’t get to see what’s happening. You have to trust the dream, trust that what happens next is all a part of the experience.”

“Enough of the psycho-babble, already, Derrick. We get it,” Al protested. There was a shuffling of male bodies behind her, and Leah felt a different set of hands, clearly Al’s hands. They were not quite as large as Dr. Clyde’s, but they were slightly calloused. She wondered how someone who taught courses on dream psychology got calloused hands. He gently cupped her hips, careful not to touch her wounded left ass-cheek. Then she felt the humid heat of his breath just before his warm wet tongue pressed against the place where her thigh met her left buttock.

“Oh God!” she managed, as the unexpected, but delightful, sinuous lap of his tongue up the rounded contour of her ass cheek moved inward, closer to the cleft that she knew would taste nothing at all like peaches. Meanwhile the doctor droned on that though at one point in our evolution, we liked the scents and odors of the body, at present that was less the case, and scented and flavored lubricants and lotions for sex often made the partners more comfortable with their personal smells.

“I like her smell,” came Al’s muffled reply. “It’s her I want to taste, not fucking peaches.”

“Wait a minute, you can smell me? I mean I’m sure you can smell me now, but … before?”

“I ha’ a ‘en’ative nothe,” came the slurped reply against her ass, and she decided right then and there that she was just fine with that.

“I fail to see how eating her out is going to help ease the pain at all,” Dr. Clyde observed as Al licked and slurped and nibbled ever closer to the ache at the center that had nothing to do with the spanking.

“It’s my dream.” Leah protested, wriggling and squirming to open her legs against the restraint of the panties around her knees. “If I want him to do … that, then surely he should do that.”

“It’s hardly a punishment though, is it?” the doctor said, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest observing Al’s efforts from the edge of Leah’s peripheral vision.

“Who the fuck ca —  res?” she managed with a little gasp as Al fingered her open to make room for his very talented tongue.

She was just getting into it, just beginning to think that maybe Al’s tongue was prehensile when she heard a grunt and opened her eyes to discover the good doctor had moved closer, and he was now observing with his trousers open, his gaze locked on what Al was doing to her bottom and his fist locked around his heavy erection, which pointed accusingly at her ass as he shifted his hips to free his balls. Not that she wanted him to stop or anything, but she was just about to comment that she failed to see what his cock stroking had to do with her punishment when the sudden absence of a warm tongue from her nether region and the sound of a zipper opening told her that, in solidarity with his fellow male, Al had just freed Simba. She pressed her legs tightly together and wriggled just enough for the binding panties to drop to the floor. Then she kicked them aside and she was free too, opening her thighs anticipating more than Al’s tongue when the damn doctor called a halt to all activities.

“Now what?” Both she and Al growled at the same time.

“You’re not supposed to fuck her, Al. You’re supposed to spank her, punish her, make her repentant.”

“Oh I am,” she managed breathlessly. “I’m very repentant. I’ll never write down fake dreams again.”

Dr. Clyde ignored her. “Look, in the dreams, you’re both being punished. No one gets satisfaction until the punishment is complete.”

“Seriously?” Leah said, and Al cursed profusely. Under different circumstance to hear such foul language from the mouth of her mild-mannered instructor would have shocked her, but at the moment, she was inclined to agree with him completely.

“Well, I suppose I could have some satisfaction,” the doctor added with a little shrug of his broad shoulders, and the movement made his dick look like it shrugged too in its anxious agreement. “After all it’s not my dream and I’m not being punished.” Cock in hand, he insinuated himself between Al and Leah and with a quiver of anticipation, Leah wriggled against the table as he fingered her open.

“Wait a minute,” Al said. “This is Leah’s dream. What if she doesn’t want you to fuck her? What if she just wants to get on with it?”

“No, no! That’s all right. I’m good with it. I’m fine.” Leah just wanted someone to fuck her and soon! Since it was her dream, why not the good doctor? He was certainly ready.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t put your cock in her mouth if you want,” Dr. Clyde said to Al. “I suppose that could be considered punishment. It could certainly be considered humiliation in most BDSM circles, if done under the right circumstances, or so I’m told,” he added quickly.

“What if I put my cock up your ass instead,” Al said, shocking both Leah and Dr. Clyde as he yanked at the waistband of the man’s expensive trousers.

Before the doctor could protest, Leah added her own bit of profanity to the blue language hanging in the air. “It’s my dream, damn it! So just put your fucking cock in his fucking hole already! I don’t see how that can affect my punishment. And when you do, I want to see, so Doc, if you’ll just hand me the mirror.”

“Wait a minute, Al’s the Dom, not you.”

“Shut up, Doc!” both she and Al said at once.

“It’s my dream,” Leah repeated, “Besides,” she added quickly, “I’ve never seen a man fuck a man before.”

“Come to think of it, neither have I,” Dr. Clyde said. “Do you think you can angle the mirror so I can see too.”

*****

About K D Grace/Grace Marshall

Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She loves mythology. She enjoys spending time in the gym – right now she’s having a mad affair with a pair of kettle bells. She loves to read, watch birds and do anything that gets her outdoors.

KD has erotica published with Totally Bound, SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. Find Grace’s novels here.

Find K D Here:                                                                  

Websites: http://kdgrace.co.uk/

http://www.thebritbabes.co.uk

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KD_Grace

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/kdgraceauthor/

Release blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.

New Release: Sexy Just Got Kinky by The Brit Babes

Hi everyone,

I’m delighted to announce the release of Sexy Just Got Kinky: Kinks to Make you Think! Containing a mixture of tantalising tales from yours truly, Lexie Bay, Victoria Blisse, Marissa Farrar, K D Grace, Lily Harlem, Kay Jaybee and Tabitha Rayne, this book, as one reviewer said, will “make you squirm in your seat and set off hot flushes!”

Here’s the blurb:

Tantalise your dark side with kinks to make you think. From lovers behind bars to lone ladies behind the lens—fisticuffs and feathers, lilos and lube, scissors and sticks, whips, canes and bondage, there’s sure to be a kink within these pages to whet your appetite, tickle your fancies and heat up cold nights.

So, what are you waiting for? Grab your copy in eBook or print format here.

And be sure to add it to your Goodreads shelves: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32939193-sexy-just-got-kinky

Happy Reading!
Lucy x

Inspired by a Can of Pears by K D Grace (@kd_grace)

the-tutor-kd-grace_promosquare_outnow_finalInspiration comes in the strangest forms. The Tutor was actually inspired by a can of pears in heavy syrup – thanks to my friend and fabulous writer, Kay Jaybee. At a workshop she was teaching for Smut Manchester last year, Kay handed me a writing prompt on slip of paper. I still remember the smug little smile on her face You guessed it. My prompt was a can of pears in heavy syrup, which my character was to pick up in a grocery story just before being called to the storeroom of said store over the loudspeaker for some unknown reason. From pears in heavy syrup to an outrageously sexy haphephobic sculptor, and the woman he longs to touch but can’t – it might seem like quite a stretch, but inspiration is like that, isn’t it?

*****

The Tutor Blurb:

Struggling writer, Kelly Blake has a secret life as a sex tutor. Celebrated sculptor and recluse, Alexander ‘Lex’ Valentine, can’t stand to be touched. When he seeks out Kelly’s advice incognito, the results are too hot to handle. When Kelly terminates their sessions due to what she considers her unprofessional behavior, Lex takes a huge risk, revealing his identity to her at a gala exhibition, his first ever public appearance. When Kelly helps the severely haphephobic Lex escape the grope of reporters and paparazzi, rumors fly that the two are engaged, rumors encouraged by well-meaning friends and colleagues.

The press feeding frenzy forces Kelly into hiding at Lex’s mansion where he convinces her to be his private tutor just until the press loses interest, and she can go back home. They discover quickly that touch is not essential for sizzling, pulse-pounding intimacy. But intimacy must survive the secrets uncovered as their sessions become more and more personal.

Buy links: http://kdgrace.co.uk/books/the-tutor/

*****

The TutorExcerpt:

For a long moment they sat in silence again, both wrapped in matching terry robes, both looking slightly worse for the wear. He was okay with that. He could have sat there with her all night, but she broke the spell. “Lex, you’re exhausted. Do you think you could try to get some more sleep?”

“Stay with me.” The words were out before he could stop them. “If you stay with me, I can sleep.”

She stood and looked back at his bed and, for a dreadful moment, he though she was going to say no. “All right then, but your bed’s a train wreck. Why don’t you come to mine? It’s virtually undreamed in tonight. Besides I only allow good dreams in my bed.” She nodded to the open French doors and gave him an encouraging smile.

Back in the Meadowlark Suite she went to work on their sleeping arrangements, putting a barrier of pillows down the middle between them. It was a huge bed, just like his, so there was still lots of room. “There are enough cushions and pillows and throws for a herd of elephants to have a slumber party,” she said. “I don’t move much when I sleep, but this will make sure that I don’t accidentally touch you or you me.” She pulled back the covers and nodded to the space. “Get comfy and I’ll tuck you in.” He did as she asked, wishing desperately that they could lose the pillow barrier and he could take her in his arms and hold her all night and wake up with her still pressed against him. The thought made his chest ache with longing, but that she was here, that she was next to him, sleeping close, that would do. That was so much better than anything he’s ever been able to imagine for himself.

When she was settled in on the other side of the pillow barrier, he couldn’t keep from smiling. She was in his bed, well technically it was his bed, wasn’t it? She wore his engagement ring, and she did! She still wore it. She hadn’t taken it off. At least for the moment he could almost imagine the two of them as a normal couple climbing into their bed together after a hard day, lying close to each other before they both drifted off to sleep. What must that feel like? Would he ever know? If he ever did, at this moment he couldn’t imagine anyone he’d rather share his bed with than Kelly Blake. And just before he drifted off to sleep, he remembered that she had found him, she had followed him and come searching for him, both the other night in the sculpture garden and tonight. She had rescued him from the dream world and she hadn’t been repulsed by his neediness. She had stayed with him.

* * *

Kelly woke with a pillow tossed carelessly over her face and a heavy warm weight on her body. It was only when she moved slightly in an effort to dislodge whatever it was that she realized the heavy weight was Lex Valentine. She froze, heart summersaulting in her chest, right exactly where his head rested, dark hair tickling her chin. All around them she could see nothing but mounds of pillows, but there were none between them. There was nothing between them. His head lay between her breasts with one hand cupping her. One well-muscled leg was thrown over her body just above her hip, which his morning erection prodded enthusiastically. What the hell should she do? If he woke up like this, he would pass out or throw up or both, at the very least he would have a panic attack, but she hadn’t moved. He had found his way to her in his sleep, and he clung to her like he would a lover. Like he would a lover! That thought focused her enough that she made an effort to relax. It was human contact. The cost, from what she had seen yesterday — at least between the two of them — the cost was worth paying. His unconscious had known exactly what he needed, what he desired. So why not let his unconscious take care of the need he couldn’t yet take care of consciously. Did she believe that he would be able to at some point? She desperately wanted to believe that, and she wanted to be there when it happened. She wanted to be the one he took consciously into his arms.

His thumb brushed her nipple and she battled to hold still in the bed as it stiffened and rose against his stroking. The satin hardness of his erection surged where it pressed trapped between her hip and his body, and he began to shift and slide against her. She swallowed back a moan, feeling the rush of heat down low where her legs were spread. Had she slept that way, or was it an unconscious response to the nearness of him and his obvious need of her. She couldn’t help it, she wriggled slightly beneath him until she was a little more open and the rhythmic clench and release, clench and release, of her pelvic muscles mirrored his slid and shift, slide and shift. He squirmed and moaned and she froze, for a moment fearing he was waking up and once again at a loss as to what she should do to make it easier for him. But instead of waking up, he shifted more fully onto her until he was almost, but on quite on top of her. His cock pressed up against the inside of her thigh, and still he shifted and slid and moaned softly and, God help her, she found herself wriggling and grinding in an effort to get more fully beneath his body, in an effort the get him inside her. Jesus, she wanted him inside her! She wanted him inside her like she’d never wanted anything as his fingers curled around her breast kneading in rhythm to his shifting, in rhythm to the undulation of her hips. Then he took his hand away and she all but cried out in her frustration, catching herself just before there was any sound other than a heavy intake of breath. But there was very little time to dwell on the absence of his hand as he moved splayed fingers down the flat of her belly and wriggled his way into the top of her panties, there he rested his hand only for a moment on her pubic curls and she arched against it, effectively willing him to seek out the place where she needed to be touched. And thank fuck, he did! He found that place, and memories of the slippery pear half flashed through her head as he carefully, but urgently fingered her open and began to stroke and probe.

This was insane. He was asleep. She absolutely had to wake him before it was too late. If he woke up like this he’d be embarrassed as well as panicked. If he woke up like this he would think she was taking advantage, which she was. And then he found her clitoris, and she held her breath and dug her heels into the mattress to keep from moving as he circled her — first with his thumb and then with two fingers slick with her own lust. Then he found her rhythm and he thrust and scissored, circled and probed, exactly as she had told him she liked it, as she had demonstrated on the pear.

There was nothing she could do but let him touch her, let the feel of him wash over her in waves, the incredible sensation of being caressed so intimately by Lex Valentine. Her haze of arousal was sharply punctuated by his moans and grunts, not the sounds of distress, but the sounds of a man about to ejaculate. Though her own shifting and rocking had become almost entirely internal, she was there with him, right on the edge as he stroked and touched and tweaked. Christ, how could anything feel better than this? He stopped breathing. His whole body was one tightly clenched muscle, the shifting and sliding had become outright thrusting, and the moans and grunts had escalated to guttural growls. At some point, she didn’t know when it had happened, she grabbed onto the headboard to keep back the overpowering urge to touch him, to take him by the wrist and hold his hand down where she needed it, to grab him by the cock and stroke him until he came, or even better to guide his erection down between her legs where she wanted him most of all. But before there was time to think about it, he grunted, then grunted again, and she felt the warm wet of his release against her thigh. That was enough to send her over the edge. Try though she might, she couldn’t lie still, and Lex woke up.

“Kelly? Fuck!” His words were followed by a hard thud and a barely swallowed string of curses as he rolled off onto the floor.

“Christ, Lex, are you all right? Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do. I should have woke you up.”

“You did wake me up,” he managed between gasps for breath. “Christ, woman, no one has ever woken me up like that before.” He groaned and rolled onto his side.

“Are you okay?”

“Never better.” He said with a soft laugh that sounded somewhat painful. “I’ll be even better still if I can get the room to stop spinning. For a long moment there was no sound but the sound of his breathing. She wasn’t breathing at all, though she desperately needed to. She was too busy trying to listen to him, to make sure he was okay.

At last he spoke. “Did I just … Did we just.”

She couldn’t help the giddy little laugh. “Your fingers aren’t sticky from fondling canned pears, big boy, and I’m gonna need clean sheets.”

*****

About K D Grace/Grace Marshall

Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She loves mythology. She enjoys spending time in the gym – right now she’s having a mad affair with a pair of kettle bells. She loves to read, watch birds and do anything that gets her outdoors.

KD has erotica published with Totally Bound, SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Sweetmeats Press and others.

Find K D Here:                                                                  

Websites: http://kdgrace.co.uk/

http://www.thebritbabes.co.uk

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KD_Grace

Out Now–Landscapes by K D Grace (@kd_grace) #erotica #romance #mm #pnr

LandscapesVampire Alonso Darlington has a disturbing method of keeping landscaper, Reese Chambers, both safe from and oblivious to his dangerous lust for the man. But Reese isn’t easy to keep secrets from, and Alonso wants way more than to admire the man from afar. Can he risk a real relationship without risking Reese’s life? And if Reese finds out the truth, will there be any relationship left to risk?

Note: Landscapes has been previously released as part of the Brit Boys: On Boys boxed set.

*****

Excerpt:

It wasn’t that Reese Chambers made my cock hard – though he did. It wasn’t that he was beautiful in a rugged, leather and stone sort of way – though he was. It was that Reese Chambers moved me in ways I had not been moved in a very long time, in ways that I, who never lacked just the right words to express myself, found my vocabulary inadequate to the task. Talia would call it an obsession, and maybe it was; from my first sight of him mantling his sketchpad like a bird of prey over a fresh kill, alone in the midst of the crowded pub, I could think of nothing else. It was my first night back on British soil. It is said that you can never go back home, and it had been a very long time for me. But the need to come home was in my blood like fever these past years, as were so many needs that never left me, but only sharpened with the passing of time.

Next to me, Talia droned on about suitable residences in Cumbria, about the leasing of a car and the making of necessary renovations. The Two Dogs was busy for a Monday night with tourist season past, but being invisible was sometimes easier in a crowd.

***

‘Find out who he is.’ I nodded in Reese’s direction. Before Talia could protest, I continued. ‘I have a roof over my head, and I’ve fed. There’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.’

Talia’s cheekbones flushed with the rush of blood, and heaven knew how beautiful she was in such a state, porcelain pale skin, midnight blue eyes and hair, which was so close to black that no one but I would have noticed all of the other colours in her silken tresses. She knew what it was I asked of her, and she knew the delicate line she tread on the rare occasion when I did ask. A tremor passed up her long, straight spine, and a bloom of tiny goose bumps textured her bare arms. It would not be painless, what I asked, and I knew she feared it as much as she longed for it. I could hear the thud thud of her pulse in the thin, silken skin of her throat as she swallowed the sudden dryness of fear. ‘What do you want to know?’

I leaned forward to rake the tip of my thumb against the pulse point in her temple. ‘Everything, Talia. I want to know all of it. And when you know, come directly to me. I don’t care what time it is when you return.’

*****

It was nearing dawn when Talia returned to our accommodations smelling of sex, as I knew she would if she were to obtain for me what I wanted. By then my blood burned in my veins, and my body felt too close to me, as though the flesh that I dwelt in suddenly conspired to crush me with its demands. And though I knew that Reese Chambers could not have refused her even if she had come to him as a toothless, foul-smelling hag, I hated her that he had poured himself into her body while I had been left with only my fantasies kindling my lust to an inferno.

Though my need was such that my flesh was fevered and my cock an insistent throb, until she returned, I held myself contained within skin that felt too thin. When she saw the state that I was in, she pulled the heavy drapes with an efficient tug, then with a nod of her head, motioned me to follow her down into the basement room that had been prepared for me. When she turned to me at the foot of the bed, before she could opened her kiss-bruised lips to speak, I took her mouth, starving for the first taste of him, the taste of his saliva, the taste of his blood, mixed with hers. She’d bitten him; he’d bitten her back. He was rough, and he liked to be treated rough, but he kept that to himself. He was embarrassed by it. His lips were slightly chapped from so much time in the sun and wind, and they’d slid against hers, suckling and stroking and pressing until her mouth opened to his. With ravenous laps of my tongue, I tasted him in her mouth, and she held back the moan of response, so I could hear the echoes of his groans, heavy with need he’d not satisfied in awhile, and I felt kinship in my own unsatisfied needs. Images of him flashed through my head. Christ, his eyes were green, dark green like the evergreen forests of the north, and he kept them open when he kissed her, taking her in with his eyes.

I shoved aside the silk of her low bodice exposing her breasts, breasts that his hands had cupped. My nipples peeked to sharp aching points at the feel of his calloused thumbs raking, pressing and releasing. I breathed in his scent on her breasts, burying my face in her cleavage, licking the taste of salty, slightly picante maleness, sniffing and tasting until I could stand it no more. In one violent jerk, I tore the dress all the way down and shoved it off her shoulders, away from the flesh he had licked and kissed and mounted. I cried out at the feel of him, weight on one elbow, knee spreading her thighs, fingers opening her heaviness, anxious to penetrate, anxious to relieve his need. And then, with Talia free of clothing, Reese Chambers’ essence filled the room. Talia’s panties were still wet with his semen mixed with her humid desire, and I tore them from her and forced her onto her stomach, onto her hands and knees, so that it was not her face I saw, but his that I imagined. With hands on her hips, I raised her bottom in the air and spread her still swollen, still slippery folds with fingers made awkward by my arousal, letting the scent of his hot bread and honey release intoxicate me. Then I buried my face in her snatch and, as I ate his lust from her, I knew him.

He was Cumbrian born and bred, and his accent was the soft lilting sound of the fells. He was a landscaper and a gardener by trade. His hands held the magic of the earth and his mind conceived ideas for beautiful outdoor spaces; those he liked best were patterned after Renaissance and medieval gardens. He was homesick and heartsick. He’d gone to Surrey to work with his father because the money was good. But his father had died recently and he had returned home to Cumbria. He didn’t care if he had to work in a pub or muck stables. He wanted to be home. He missed the people and he missed the fells. He missed the simpler, more honest rhythms of life. He was shy, even a bit reclusive. He read voraciously and widely, he liked astronomy and he was afraid of snakes, though it embarrassed him to admit it. He hadn’t had sex in a long time, and found it better to have a wank session than a meaningless encounter. The facts of him, the details of his life raced at me in a flood I consumed ravenously with each lap of my tongue.

As I ate Talia I felt the shape of his face, the curve of his chin, the rise and fall of his chest as he had done the same. I felt the soft tuft of bronze curls nestled between the hard rise of his pecs and the courser, deeper curls that caressed his testicles and his cock when it was at rest, but it hadn’t been at rest. How many times had he taken her? He was thick enough to fill her and the friction of him inside was delicious and maddening. The shape of him – I wanted to caress the shape of him, with my hands, with my mouth, and the taking of his essence from Talia was an act of ripping away something that should have been mine. As I bruised her arse with kneading fingers and, as I licked the last of his release from her, she managed a breathless moan. ‘Take the rest. God, Alonso, take the rest, and release me.’

Buy Landscapes Here:

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*****

About K D Grace/Grace Marshall

Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.

KD has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, To Rome with Lust, and The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition, Interviewing Wade are all available.

Find K D Here:

Websites: http://kdgrace.co.uk/

http://www.thebritbabes.co.uk

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KD_Grace

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/kdgraceauthor/

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Sometimes it Sizzles When Things Go Pear-shaped by K D Grace (@kd_grace)

thetutorcoverrevealThe Tutor Cover Reveal

Preorder: 30th August

Early Download (on the TB website): 13th September

General Release: 11th October

I’ve been barely able to contain myself this past two weeks, just bursting to tell you the good news, and now at last I can. Not only can I tell you that my steamy contemporary romance novel, The Tutor, has been snapped up by the Totally Entwined imprint of Totally Bound, but I can now reveal the gorgeous cover which sizzles with the creative genius of Emmy Ellis.

The Tutor has a very special place in my heart because it had its beginnings last October at Smut Manchester during Kay Jaybee’s wonderfully wicked “trip to the supermarket” workshop on inspiration. We were all given an item from the supermarket shelf and told we’d been called over the loudspeaker to go to the stockroom. From that we were to write the beginnings of a story about what we’d find in the stockroom and what we’d do with our item in said stockroom. I still remember the smug little smirk on Ms. Jaybee’s face when she handed me the slip of paper that read A tin of pears in heavy syrup.  I never imagined in my wildest dreams that before the weekend was out, I’d have the seeds for a novel that just had to be written. In fact, it needed to be written so badly that I signed up for NaNoWriMo — National Novel Writing Month in November and wrote the whole 95K in one month!  Here’s just a taste of the end result. Enjoy!

*****

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Blurb:

Struggling writer, Kelly Blake has a secret life as a sex tutor. Celebrated sculptor and recluse, Alexander ‘Lex’ Valens, can’t stand to be touched. When he seeks out Kelly’s advice incognito, the results are too hot to handle. When Kelly terminates their sessions due to what she considers her unprofessional behavior, Lex takes a huge risk, revealing his identity to her at a gala exhibition, his first ever public appearance. When Kelly helps the severely haphephobic Lex escape the grope of reporters and paparazzi, rumors fly that the two are engaged, rumors encouraged by well-meaning friends and colleagues. The press feeding frenzy forces Kelly into hiding at Lex’s mansion where he convinces her to be his private tutor just until the press loses interest, and she can go back home. They discover quickly that touch is not essential for sizzling, pulse-pounding intimacy. But intimacy must survive the secrets uncovered as their sessions become more and more personal.

*****

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Excerpt:

“Was this your idea or Dillon’s? Kelly asked, hoping to relax him.

“It was mine, after Andy told Dillon and he told me. I thought it was something that I …” The muscles along Lex’s jaw looked as though they were made out of iron, and a fine blush crawled up his neck tinting his ears bright pink. “I’ve never touched a woman … in that way.” He forced a laugh. “Obviously. I’ve …” the blush deepened and he avoided her gaze. “I’ve put lube on some of the sculptures – you know — down there, but I … well it isn’t the same.”

“The pears won’t be either,” she said, her heart suddenly aching at the physical isolation this man endured on a daily basis, and it wasn’t just her heart that ached, she felt his lack deep in her core. It had been easier with Andy. She had been almost flippant with him. She was sorry for that now. She spread one of the towels on the Queen Anne chair across from him and settled herself onto it so they were facing each other. “The texture will be different and with the pear there’ll be less give.” She dipped her fingers in the bowl and rubbed the heavy juice between her index finger and her thumb. “If you touch a woman, she’ll be much warmer.” She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “You’ll be amazed at how warm and how soft she’ll be down there when she’s ready to be touched. With Andy, this,” she nodded down to the pears, “was improvisation, this was the best I could do under the circumstances, but a woman, well a woman feels like nothing you’ve ever touched before.”

He was no longer avoiding her gaze. His eyes were locked on her, and he was struggling to keep them on her face, she knew that; she understood the urge for him to drop his eyes to the place of which she spoke, the place with which she was so intimate, the place that couldn’t help but respond to the topic, to the situation, to the strange intimacy they had shared almost since the moment they’d met. “You can look, if you want,” she opened her legs so that he could see the place in between clothed in black denim, completely disguised and yet so very obvious. “And I’ll look at you too,” she nodded down to his own jeans straining to contain him already. “It’s what men and woman are naturally inclined to do when there’s a sexual attraction.”

With her heart hammering in her throat, she took one of the pear halves into the cupped palm of her left hand, then she brought it down between her spread thighs, feeling the juice of it run over her fingers and drip onto the towel as she spread her legs a little farther and held her pam to mimic the position of her vulva. “Touch it like a woman would touch it, and you’ll always get it right.” She drug her index and middle finger up from the bottom of the pear to the center and felt her own body respond in empathy. “The pear has no folds, no secret valleys, no swollen flesh to be teased open, so you’ll have to use your imagination with that.”

Lex gave a little moan soft and deep in his chest as he shifted to make himself more comfortable. “I know the anatomy,” he said. “I’ve watched porn and I’ve studied drawings. I know how it looks like it might feel. I know the response it elicits.” His tongue flicked nervously over his upper lip. “Of course that’s just acting, isn’t it?”

“Porn is about fantasy, about voyeurism, and it doesn’t matter if it’s real if it gets you off. But when it is real,” she spread her index and middle finger up the sides of the pear’s central opening, “if you’re good, if your sensitive, you’ll feel the spasms of your lover’s orgasm, even see them if you’re using your tongue; and you can feel them gripping at your cock when your inside her. If you’re paying attention.

“The clitoris,” she laughed softly, “Well with Andy I used a Ticktack, but he’s a chemistry major. He likes charts and graphs and periodic tables. You’re an artist, you live in your imagination, so you don’t need a Ticktack. Some women like the thumb stroking and circling while the other fingers work inside. Some women like to use their fingers.” She demonstrated on the pear, and Lex groaned. “It’s always best to ask and be sure.”

“What do you like?” His words were a labored rasp against the back of his throat, and Kelly found herself stunned by the question, and way more aroused than she wanted to be. He shouldn’t have asked. She should have answered. But she did.

“I like it this way.” She shifted her hips and opened a little further so he could see her thrust and scissor, circle and probe technique, and her body responded with the tight grip and release of muscle memory.

“Jesus,” he whispered moving forward on the sofa and leaning closer for a better look. “And when someone uses their tongue?”

She caught her breath in a giddy laugh. “Afraid I can’t tell you what I do since, sadly I’m not that flexible.”

“But you can tell me what you like.” His voice had gone rough.

“I like the flat of the tongue to part me and then probe me, circle my clit and then kiss and suck.” She closed her eyes, finding it difficult to meet his gaze when she spoke about something so intimate, so secret. Come to think of it, she’d never had a man actually ask her how she liked it. The few who had given a rat’s ass about her pleasure had been happy enough to let her order them about, but never quite got the hang of it.

It was the loud schussing sound that caused her to open her eyes. Lex had moved the coffee table out of the way paying no attention to the slosh of pear juice all over the towel V had spread. His eyes were locked on Kelly as he fished out his own pear half and fell to his knees in front of her. When she realized what the man was about to do she dropped the pear she’d been holding with a little gasp of surprise and scooted as far back in the chair as she could. He knelt low, holding the pear in the cup of his hand, as she had, placing it against the edge of the chair between her legs! She gave a little yelp and scrambled back in the chair still further, spreading her thighs over the rise of the chair arms to keep from touching him. He moved forward, the back of his hand so close to her crotch that she could feel the heat of it, and he lowered himself still further until his hair nearly brushed the insides of her thighs. Then, still looking up at her from his position on the floor, he began at the bottom of the open pear half and ran his tongue flat and undulating all the way up, flicking in just slightly in a little circle at the top end before he closed his lips around the apex and she could hear the slurp and suck of the sweet syrup.

“Oh! Lex! Ah!” And then she went non-verbal, holding her breath, tightening muscles deep inside her body, the only muscles she dared to move if she were to keep from touching him. She raised both arms and fisted her hands in a suicide grip around the back of the chair to keep from curling them in his hair. Her thighs trembled from her efforts to keep her legs on the chair arms and not throw them over his shoulders for leverage. She didn’t move. She didn’t breath as he licked and nuzzled and suckled until pear juice ran down his chin and onto his tee-shirt, until his face was damp and sticky, until his forehead was sheened with perspiration, and still he held her gaze as though they were locked together in each other’s orbit neither able to move without the other’s consent.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come.” She barely managed a warning when his own convulsion brought him dangerously near her body. He had stopped breathing, she was sure of it. She practically climbed the back of the chair to keep from touching him as he lost control. Then with a tremendous gasp of oxygen, he straightened, let the pear fall from his hand onto the aubusson carpet and looked up at her.

“I’m going to pass out.” And he did.

*****

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About K D Grace/Grace Marshall

Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.

K D has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace,Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include, The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, To Rome with Lust, and The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition, Interviewing Wade are all available.

Find K D Here:                                                                  

Websites: http://kdgrace.co.uk/

http://www.thebritbabes.co.uk

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KDGraceAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KD_Grace

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/kdgraceauthor/