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Refuge by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai)

RefugeBlurb

I never wanted to be a soldier, especially a guard at the remote, dusty Mae La refugee camp, a thousand kilometers from my home. But these days there were no jobs in our village. My mother depended on the money I sent her each month. Still, she cried whenever I phoned her.

Until I met the lovely hill tribe girl Preean, though—until she asked for help I knew I shouldn’t give her—I never really understood what I was doing to my fellow human beings. How could she go on, one day after another in that desolate place, without any hope for change? Mae La was limbo—once you arrived here you were stuck. There was nowhere else you could go.

To love her was dangerous, a risk to my own life and freedom. But when she offered her body and her heart, how could I refuse?

Buy Links

All proceeds from sales on Smashwords and Amazon will be donated to Amnesty International

Amazon US   –  https://www.amazon.com/dp/07TDYD7DB

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07TDYD7DB

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/945432

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/refuge-64

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/46406547-refuge

*****

Excerpt

I watched her body sway in front of me. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness. I could see her slender back, with its cloak of gleaming hair. I swallowed hard at the sight of her hips, their swell distorting the patterned fabric of her sarong. I was sweaty and nervous as she led me through the forests near the camp boundaries and up to higher ground. The aching lump in my groin made it difficult to walk.

The path opened into a grassy clearing. Moonlight poured in. To my left rose a steep wall of limestone. The plash of falling water reached my ears. Rivulets emerged from the cliff at several spots and tumbled into a mossy pool at its base, before spilling over and flowing down hill toward the camp. The cool breeze was rich with the scent of growing things, free of the fetid aromas of the caged humanity.

I took a deep breath. Preean stopped by the pool. She turned to me, her arms wide in invitation. I stood rooted in that magical spot, snared by her beauty.

“Nu?” Her voice released me. I gathered her in my arms, burying my face in her fragrant locks. The soft flesh of her breasts pressed against my chest, sending a thrill through my limbs that settled in my groin. Amazed at my daring, I ran my palms over her cloth-wrapped hips, around to her buttocks, and pulled her body tight against mine.

She ground her pelvis against my swollen cock. I moaned, finding her lewdness shocking but irresistible. “Mmm,” she murmured. “I guess that you do like me, after all.” Before I could stop her (and only part of me wanted to), she had slipped her hand between us and unfastened my pants.

My rigid penis sprang into her hand, an arrow to its target. She stroked it delicately, like some fluttering bird that might escape. It swelled at her touch. As it hardened further, she started to squeeze, pumping rhythmically from base to tip as though she was milking a goat. She smeared the sensitive bulb with moisture leaking from the eye, and I nearly lost control. Meanwhile, with her other hand, she grabbed my head and pulled my lips to hers.

Her mouth was open from the first. Her kiss was bold, all tongue and teeth, honest in its need—the hot, hungry kiss of a woman starved for loving. I returned the kiss, as best I could, lost, dizzy with lust. My senses reeled. It was too much. The fever of her mouth, the cool silk of her fingers on my cock. Her scent, grass and smoke, salt and musk. Her taste, lemon and mint. I felt my balls contract and groaned, sure that I was about to embarrass myself by spurting all over her hand.

Preean knew. At the last moment, she released both my cock and my mouth. Her smile was full of mischief and understanding. Stepping away from me, she pulled her tunic over her head. Jet locks tumbled over her bare shoulders. I stared at her breasts, white and plump as little chicks with tips dark as tamarind pods. My palms ached to cup them, to feel them yield under my touch.  She loosed the tucks holding the sarong around her hips. The fabric dropped to the ground, revealing her flat belly and winking navel, her pale thighs and shapely calves, and at the center of the universe, the tangled patch of black fur that hid her sex.

My cock twitched, eager for a taste. I was too shy to move.

Her scent was sharper now. She knelt and spread the sarong upon the grass, then lay on her side, watching me. “Please. Take off your clothes, Nu. I want you.”

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai has been addicted to words all her life. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.  Sign up for her VIP email list here:  https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

***

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The Heart of the Deal by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #romanticerotica #bdsmerotica #lesbian #multipartner

The Heart Of The DealBlurb

Ruby Maxwell Chen, the lovely and ruthless CEO of a sprawling British business empire, has no qualms about playing dirty – very dirty. She’s happy to use sex to help her close a deal, especially when she’s the one on top. Ruby loves the game, and she expects to win. When she encounters the inexplicably charismatic American entrepreneur Rick Martell, though, she wonders if she hasn’t finally met her match.

From the trendy clubs of London to the Hollywood Hills, Ruby and Rick compete for ownership of a strategic factory in Malaysia. As their struggle for dominance escalates and their mutual lust flares, they draw their employees and associates into their outrageous power games. The stakes could scarcely be higher, as Ruby and Rick play for the ultimate prize: a night of total physical surrender.

Note: This book was previously published under the titles Ruby’s Rules and Nasty Business. It has been re-edited, revised and updated for this release.

Available from: Amazon UK | Amazon US | Barnes & Noble | Kinky Literature | Kobo | Smashwords

*****

Excerpt:

We are in a taxi now, in the semi-private darkness, and his hands are all over me. I don’t worry about the driver. What is there that a London cabbie has not seen? I teeter between enjoyment and terror. Oh, I want this stranger, but surely, it must be on my terms.

He brings my hand down between his thighs, and I feel triumph. Finally, he is erect, he wants me. He unzips his trousers and releases his cock. “I’d like you to suck me,” he says. There is a trace of irony in his voice. “Assuming that you are feeling generous, of course.”

I hate him, his overwhelming sensuality, his casual superiority. Normally, I will not perform fellatio. I find it degrading and subservient. But his engorged penis gleams in the transient street light, infinitely attractive. Saliva gathers in my mouth at the prospect. I am actually hungry to swallow his rod.

He is watching me as the passing lights first illumine me, then throw me into shadow. He feels my hesitation. “Go on,” he says. “You know you want to.”

Recklessness and desire. This is only a one-night stand. I should follow my heart, body, whatever. I straddle him as he lies back on the bench seat, arrogantly thrusting my arse in his face. No kneeling before my master, not for me. His penis bobs in front of me, inviting, almost taunting.

I decide to taunt him in return. I begin with the lightest of touches, just a tease; the tip of my tongue on the sensitive knob. I am rewarded by a faint moan. His swollen member twitches, nearly hitting me in the face. Carefully, I trace the ridge below the bulb, delighting in the smoothness, and the tension underneath.

His cock strains toward me, seeming to beg for the warm depths of my mouth. But I continue to tease, licking, nipping, tracing the veined length of him with my tongue, but not letting him into me.

I feel his fingers between my legs, and realize that he has decided to tease me in retaliation. So be it. I am grateful for any touch there. The more I sample his cock with my tongue, the more I want to feel that swollen bulk deep in my sex. It is not the longest, nor the thickest, nor the hardest cock I have ever encountered. But like its owner, it practically glows with some kind of sexual energy. I can feel the vibrations when I bring my lips close to kiss the tip. Still, though, I resist the urge to engulf him, to feast on him until he cannot bear the pleasure. That is what he wants, I know, and for that, he will just have to wait.

“Come on, Ruby,” he says, his voice husky, persuasive. “Don’t be shy. I know that you’ve sucked cock before. Open up!”

It does not register; the fact that he knows my name. Hardly surprising, because at that moment I am impaled. Until now, the most delicate, fleeting caresses, making my body scream for more. Now, suddenly, there is something hard and smooth in my cunt, sliding in and out of my slippery cleft and bringing a scream to my lips, despite my determination to remain in control.

He takes advantage of my gaping mouth. As I gasp for breath, struggling to comprehend and control my reactions, his rigid penis slips between my lips. Silk over granite. Hot blood pulsing. A tremor takes me as he thrusts simultaneously, deep in my throat, deep in my sex. I am skewered on these two points of pleasure.

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

Sin City Sweethearts (Vegas Babes #3) by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #lesbian #erotica #BDSM

Sin City SweetheartsBlurb

Like many newlyweds, Annie and Ted work hard, economize, live in a too-small apartment, and make passionate love whenever possible. They’re just a bit more open-minded and inclusive about sex than most couples—they met at The Fox’s Den strip club and bonded during an orgy. They’re delighted when fraternal twins Marcella and Madeleine McNabb move into the apartment downstairs. The innocent eighteen year old beauties have come to Las Vegas for university and to escape their overprotective family. Annie and Ted figure it’s practically their duty to educate the sisters about the real Sin City.

Marcie and Maddy prove to be apt pupils, with voracious carnal appetites. Before long they’re intimately involved not only with their upstairs neighbors, but also their hippie landlord and landlady, Maddy’s hunky coach, Marcie’s dominant department head, a handful of their classmates, a bevy of strippers from the Den and the infamous Foxy and Larry themselves. Then the four McNabb brothers come to town, threatening to drag the twins back to Ely, and things get truly wild.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://kinkyliterature.com/book/5123-sin-city-sweethearts-vegas-babes-book-3/

Amazon  US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07MQVSWCH

Amazon UK –  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07MQVSWCH

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/917885

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sin-city-sweethearts-lisabet-sarai/1130204032?ean=2940155941880

Kobo –  Coming soon!

Add on Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/43594528-sin-city-sweethearts

*****

X-rated Excerpt Romantic

Ted slipped his arms around her waist, pulled her ripe body to his, and buried his face in her hair.

“Mmm,” he murmured. “You smell amazing, baby.”

“Yuck. I feel like I need an hour-long shower. I’m soaked.”

“Just the way I like you, Annie-belle.” He rubbed his aching dick against her bare midriff, then squirmed his hand into her waistband to stroke her damp skin. The tight shorts made it difficult to maneuver, but he managed to worm his way down to the top edge of her bush.

She gasped when he brushed a finger tip over the springy curls. He took advantage of her open mouth to thrust his tongue inside. Far from resisting, Annie sealed her eager mouth to his, sucking hungrily as if his tongue were his cock.

The notion made him harder still. He had to get these damn shorts off her before he exploded. “Turn around, baby,” he urged, releasing her long enough for her to comply.

Supporting her weight on the couch back, she arched her back to present her glorious ass.  Ted almost lost it right there. Struggling for control, he peeled her sweaty shorts down to bare those magic globes. The garment got stuck halfway down her thighs.

“Damn!”

Annie tried to spread her legs, with little success. “Never mind—just fuck me!” She reached behind her, grabbed her rear cheeks and held them open, showing off her glistening, rose-colored cleft. Pussy juice dripped onto her fingers. “Come on!” she moaned. “I want your cock.”

He didn’t need a second invitation. He yanked the elastic on his shorts down below his balls to release his swollen dick and rammed it into her drenched pussy.

“Ahh!” His rough entrance forced a yelp from her throat. He pulled back, thinking to give her some relief, but she clenched her inner muscles around his shaft in an attempt to keep him inside her. He obliged, reversing his retreat, driving his rampant cock as deep as it would go.

“Oooh!” she wailed.

“You okay?” he asked, gritting his teeth against the sensations boiling in his balls. He wanted so much to come, to empty his jizz into the snatch that gripped him like a velvet glove. But his Annie deserved a climax, too.

She didn’t answer in words, but the way she writhed on his pole told him what he needed to know. Each time he thrust, she rolled her hips backward, trying for even deeper penetration. Her firm, full buttocks mashed against his groin. Wet heat engulfed him. Her musky scent rose around them, mingling with the tang of his own sweat. He hammered her cunt hard, again and again, giving his lover what he knew she wanted.

His hands were on her waist, holding her steady as he drilled into her. The half-discarded shorts turned her thighs into a delicious straitjacket, slick skin pressing against his shaft on each backward stroke. The tightness was sweet agony, almost too intense, but it also helped him to hold off coming. Still, he didn’t think he could last much longer.

Leaning forward, across Annie’s back, he licked at her earlobe. “Come for me, baby,” he murmured. “Come all over my fat cock.”

She moaned and bucked against him. Probably she needed his fingers on her clit, but with her thighs forced together, that was close to impossible.

Desperate, a breath away from shooting, he reached around to cup her breasts. He palmed the sweet mounds of flesh—the perfect size for his big hands—and squeezed both nipples, mimicking what he would have done with her clit.

“Fuck!” she yelled, clamping down on his dick like a vise. Her body shuddered as climax took her.

New wetness flooded her snatch. He let go, grinding his bursting cock against her cervix. Annie released a choked cry and shuddered again, a second orgasm sweeping through her. Cum erupted from his cock in huge spurts. He pulled out to paint white loops across her naked butt, the way she’d said she liked. His lusty bride moaned and jerked as the cum met her skin, tumbling into yet another climax.

Exhausted at last, Annie collapsed face down on the sofa. Ted crumpled to his knees, his body draped across her back. Gradually their breathing returned to normal.

Annie recovered first. “Wow!” she murmured, struggling against his weight to roll over. Ted moved quickly to give her the space she needed. She lay back on the sofa, arms spread wide, juice and jizz still dripping from her exposed pussy, and gave him a beatific smile. “Thank you! That was amazing.”

“Yeah,” Ted agreed. “Totally amazing.” He sprawled on the floor, propped up against the couch, his limp cock dangling outside his shorts. “I love being married to you.” She was so adorable. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to fuck her again. He glanced down at his belly, smeared with some of the cum he’d spurted onto her ass. “Maybe we do need a shower, though.”

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

New Release for Halloween! Underground by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Paranormal #BDSM

UndergroundBlurb

The long years before I found Underground and Z seem like some bad dream—an endless series of fetish groups and kink clubs, personal ads and bar hook-ups, as I searched everywhere for someone who could understand and satisfy my particular needs. S&M folk like to believe they’re tolerant and accepting. They weren’t ready to tolerate me, though.

Z doesn’t need blades or blood to take me where I want to go. His unnatural power alone would be enough. He understands how the ritual excites me, though—the slow glide of metal across my breast or along my thigh, the rush of bright pain, the flare of desire as ruby droplets gather in the knife’s wake.

I never told him about the blades and the blood. He just knew, as he seems to know so much else about me.

Buy Links

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07HYDVL65/

Amazon UK –  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07HYDVL65/

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/898486

Barnes and Noble –  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/underground-lisabet-sarai/1129661349?ean=29401558288

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/underground-95

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42122221-underground

*****

Excerpt

Thus far tonight, despite the dagger, there has been no blood—just his mouth on mine and his probing thoughts. You are sure? comes his question, as clear as if he’d spoken aloud. I’ve become accustomed to his presence in my mind, the quiet authority that soothes me on the rare occasions when fleeting terror breaks through my lassitude.

I cannot nod—my muscles no longer obey me—but I mentally broadcast my assent. Even now, after all our encounters, I am not certain who he is, what limits he may have, how dangerous he could be. That doesn’t matter. I’d never refuse him.

His kiss sucks the breath from my lungs and the energy from my limbs, leaving me gloriously weak. Liquid pleasure ripples through my languid flesh, flowing in to replace the restless hunger that normally animates my body. I sink into the clean, sunshine-smelling sheets. My pulse sluggish, my breath stuttering, I close my eyes and let myself drown in that intoxicating kiss.

The world grows fuzzy, yet every sensation is heightened. His skin is silken. His mouth is hot as the sun, wet as rain. Tonight he smells of summer flowers and January snow. His hands roam over my nakedness as he kisses me, stroking, coaxing, delicate but insistent. Each touch is an invitation to release a bit more of my self to him.

When he finally stretches out on top of me, I am barely breathing. My heart beats no more than a dozen times per minute. I should be unconscious, my life hanging by a thread. Instead I’m acutely aware of him—the pressure of his hairless chest against my breasts, his winter scent. That, and the ripples of phantom bliss I feel despite my paralysis.

Then Z slides his cock into the hungry void between my sprawled thighs. Fire streaks through me. Answering energy surges back to him in a delicious, dizzy rush. I’d thought I was close to depleted, but I’m wrong. I have more, much more to give.

Z’s fingers might be gentle, but he wields his cock with all the brutal force I crave. Even in my debilitated state, I find myself close to climax as he pounds my cunt. He hovers over me, supporting himself on his arms, skewering me again and again. I’m far too weak to clench my muscles and hold him inside, but my slick folds cling to his cock as he withdraws before each savage thrust. Each time he enters my flesh, he takes more of me.

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai has been addicted to words all her life. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.  Sign up for her VIP email list here:  https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Burn, Baby: A Sapphic Six Pack by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai)

Burn, BabyBlurb

Desire burns hot in these six sizzling tales by Lisabet Sarai. A high-powered executive and a Goth rocker collide on a rainy Manhattan night and succumb to the attraction of opposites. An  unorthodox therapist rekindles the libido of a traumatized fire-fighter.  A nun fights her forbidden lust for the voluptuous hooker resident at her women’s shelter. Burn, Baby includes many of Lisabet’s lesbian favorites as well as a searing, shocking new tale, “Countertransference”.

Buy Links

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DMYQCH9

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07DMYQCH9

Smashwords:  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/838852

Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/burn-baby-lisabet-sarai/1128902422?ean=2940155289302

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40532328-burn-baby

*****

Explicit Excerpt

From “Countertransference”

Warmth radiates from her velvety skin, along with a fragrance of roses. I try to minimize my contact with her flesh, but I can’t help my fingers brushing the back of her hand. A bolt of lust sizzles through me. My nipples peak and my cunt liquefies. I gasp, dizzy with sudden need.

“Is something wrong, Elizabeth?”

I’m so preoccupied fighting my urgent, inappropriate arousal that for a second or two I don’t notice her using my given name. “Ah—no, nothing…”

Her fingers tangle in my hair. She pulls me down, till I’m inches from her face. Her breath warms my cheek. “Don’t lie to me,” she murmurs. “You need to be honest with me about what you think and feel.”

Before I can respond, she seals her mouth to mine in a feverish kiss. In those first moments, I struggle to pull away, to put some life-saving distance between us, but she’s far stronger than I’d ever guess. Her elbow hooked around my neck, she pulls me deeper, drinking me in, pouring her self into me. When I surrender and melt—which does not take long—she releases her hold just long enough to unfasten her other wrist. Then she twines both arms around my body, toppling me onto the bed next to her.

“Alisha—no! Stop!”  I might as well try to halt a hurricane.

She burrows into my chest, using her teeth to tear the buttons off my blouse. In seconds, she has freed my bra-covered tits. Clamping one nipple in her hot mouth, she sucks it through the fabric while flicking her tongue back and forth over the tip. My desperate moan earns me a bite that’s anything but gentle. Meanwhile her hands are busy at my waist, unfastening my pants and dragging down the zipper. She thrusts her slender fingers into my crotch, wriggling under the elastic of my panties to brush my soaked pubic curls.  Electricity snaps along my spine.  I arch against her hand, wordlessly begging for penetration.

Instead, she slides her hand out from between my legs. Her laugh is like spring rain. “I want you. And you want me, too.”

“Alisha, I can’t…”

She yanks my bra down to expose my breasts and snags one engorged nub between thumb and forefinger, twisting until my cries drown out my objections.

“You can. You’re head doctor, right? You can do what you want.”

“But the law…the camera…”

“You really think the staff is watching? Believe me, they have better things to do. But if that really bothers you…” Abandoning my needy tits, she hops off the bed, removes the johnny and tosses it toward the corner of the ceiling. The garment catches on the camera, draping over the lens.

Meanwhile I’m stupefied by my first glimpse of her glorious nakedness. She’s a nymph, a  goddess, perfect in every particular. The nipples crowning her modest breasts are chocolate brown. Spun-gold curls hide her sex. My palms ache to trace her sylph-like curves. My fingers itch to probe her secrets.

She sets herself to removing my clothing. I don’t stop her. Each brush of her smooth skin on mine feeds the fire between my legs.

*****

About Lisabet Sarai

LISABET SARAI writes in many genres, but F/F fiction is one of her favorites. Her lesbian erotica credits include contributions to Lambda Award winner Where the Girls Are, Ippie-winning Carnal Machines, Best Lesbian Romance 2012, Forbidden Fruit: Stories of Unwise Lesbian  Desire,  and Lammy-nominated Coming Together: Girl on Girl. Her story “The Late Show” appears in the recently released Best Lesbian Erotica 2015.

Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her explicit literary endeavors. She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her writing. For all the dirt on Lisabet, visit her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).

The Witches of Gloucester by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai)

The Witches Of GloucesterBlurb

The historic port of Gloucester, Massachusetts has a special charm, due at least in part to its resident witches. For decades, raven-maned Marguerite and red-headed Beryl have lived among its hard-working inhabitants, making magic and mischief. Love and sex fuel their supernatural abilities, but duality limits their power. To reach their full potential, they need a third witch to complete their circle.

Rejected as a nymphomaniac by her puritanical boyfriend, Emmeline escapes to Gloucester to work on her PhD thesis. From the moment she arrives, Marguerite and Beryl sense her erotic vitality and unrecognized paranormal talent. The platinum-haired beauty may well be the enchantress they have been awaiting for so long. Now they need to show Em that her prodigious libido is a gift, not a liability, and to persuade her that her destiny lies in the sea-girt town they guard, and in their arms.

SPECIAL BONUS: Also includes “Late Show”, a contemporary FF erotic romance tale about second chances.

Buy Links

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DBB3ZTN/

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07DBB3ZTN/

Smashwords:  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/832808

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-witches-of-gloucester-lisabet-sarai/1128809847?

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/th/en/ebook/the-witches-of-gloucester-1

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40234194-the-witches-of-gloucester

*****

Excerpt

In the sweet darkness, every sensation grew more acute. Marguerite deepened the kiss, sucking Emmy’s tongue into her mouth, while Beryl stroked Emmy’s back, belly and thighs. The wandering hands barely touched Emmeline’s body but everywhere they traveled, delicious heat followed.

Sparks danced along Em’s naked skin in the wake of Beryl’s fingers. Naked? When had she removed her clothing? Her eyes fluttered open. Shadows hung in the opulent room, shaped by candles that flickered on the mantel. It was nearly midsummer. How could the night have come so quickly?

Embarrassment, wonder and need warred within her.  Arousal coursed through her body in shimmering waves, so intense it was almost pain. She found herself splayed nude upon the carpet, arms flung out and erect nipples pointing at the ceiling. Her knees were bent, her thighs spread wide in lewd invitation. Moisture seeped from her exposed cleft, dampening the silky nap of the rug beneath her.

Beryl knelt in the gap between Em’s legs, equally naked, her porcelain-pale skin gleaming in the dimness. Candlelight struck glints from her coppery crown. Emmeline couldn’t help staring at the matching tangle hiding the woman’s sex. She ached to part that auburn curtain and taste the moist flesh it concealed.

The older woman grinned. Mischief glittered in her emerald eyes. “Time enough for that later, girl. The first climax must be yours. Trust us. We won’t harm you. We just want to teach you who you are.”

We. The plural made Emmeline wonder about Marguerite.

“I’m here, darling.” The lilting, cultured voice came from behind her. Em twisted backward. Marguerite knelt just above her head, thighs parted, buttocks resting on her heels. The tawny beauty’s pubic curls were mere inches from her own silvery locks, releasing clouds of tidal perfume. Flawless butterscotch-brown skin stretched over Marguerite’s lush breasts and swelling hips. Sleek muscles shifted under the smooth surface as she leaned over to brush her lips across Emmeline’s.

Even that brief contact sent lightning sizzling to Em’s cunt.  For an instant she teetered on the edge of climax, before the luscious pressure subsided.

“Shall we take you, Emmeline?” Maguerite’s question wound its way into Emmeline’s consciousness, through a haze of lust. “You must ask us. The ritual requires it.”

*****

About Lisabet Sarai

LISABET SARAI writes in many genres, but F/F fiction is one of her favorites. Her lesbian erotica credits include contributions to Lambda Award winner Where the Girls Are, Ippie-winning Carnal Machines, Best Lesbian Romance 2012, Forbidden Fruit: Stories of Unwise Lesbian  Desire,  and Lammy-nominated Coming Together: Girl on Girl. Her story “The Late Show” appears in the recently released Best Lesbian Erotica 2015.

Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by her explicit literary endeavors. She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia, where she pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to her writing. For all the dirt on Lisabet, visit her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).

Dragon Boat Blues (Asian Adventures #5) by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai)

Dragon Boat BluesBlurb

My lost superhero Josh had jet black hair, movie star cheekbones, clever hands, the devil’s mouth, and an instinct for driving me crazy. Josh believed in his own myths. He was forty miles an hour over the speed limit that day, more powerful than a locomotive, when we smashed into the tractor trailer. He blew out like a candle. I sputtered in a sort of half life, year after year, marked forever by that brief dance with insanity.

I booked the dragon boat cruise on Ha Long Bay to use up a few free days at the end of my business trip, figuring my disability wouldn’t be a problem on the luxurious junk. I wasn’t looking for companionship, just a bit of peace. But when British honeymooners Stan and Phil welcomed me into their circle of love, I discovered how much healing I still needed.

Buy Links

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BJJTHQF

Amazon UK –  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07BJJTHQF

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/804710

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dragon-boat-blues-lisabet-sarai/1128233847?ean=2940155178255

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/39330037-dragon-boat-blues

*****

Excerpt:

As I passed a side tunnel, some inarticulate sound caught my attention, something halfway between a grunt and a sob. I froze, straining my ears. There was a moment of silence, then it came again, a breathy moan, definitely human, coming from the shadowy depths to my right.

Careful not to scuff my trainers along the earth, I stepped closer and peered into the darkness.

“Oh! Oh, sweet Jesus!”

Only a few words, but enough for me to recognize the voice. Heat flashed through my body like summer lightning. I crept deeper into the hollowed rock, knowing I should move in the other direction, but unable to stop myself.

My eyes adjusted to the dimness. Now I could make out the shape of a man, braced against the wall, legs spread, hips tilted. Another man kneeled on the rocky floor, gripping those splayed thighs, head bobbing in an unmistakable rhythm. The standing man groaned again. He threaded his fingers through the other’s hair, pulling him closer, forcing his cock deeper into his lover’s mouth.

I stopped breathing. My nipples snapped into tight beacons of sensation under my loose shirt. My clit pulsed with each thrust. The damp crotch of my leggings clung to my swelling folds.

“Yeah, oh yeah, oh baby, suck me, oh, suck, suck, yeah…” Phil chanted in time with his thrusts as he ground his pelvis into Stan’s face. Moment by moment, I saw more clearly. Stan pulled away to catch a breath, long enough for me to glimpse the pale, fat shaft he was worshipping. Then he opened wide, engulfing the rod of flesh once more.

I took a step closer, then another. I wanted to see, to smell, to hear Phil’s moans as his husband tried to drain his cum. The men were oblivious. I rubbed my clit through my clothes, grinding at it with my fist. Sparks rippled out from that center. My muscles clenched around emptiness. I wanted that cock, some cock, in my cunt, in my mouth, somewhere, anywhere. I imagined Phil turning his burly husband onto his belly, opening his rear hole, plunging deep. I wanted that too, wanted to see it, to feel it.

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai has been addicted to words all her life. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.  Sign up for her VIP email list here:  https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh