A Little Public Naughtiness

THE WAY BACK TO PLAY

With an agonized groan, Peter Richards held his wife, Kat, still while he came, spilling his seed down her throat.

For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t for the life of him pull out, pull away, from her. But, drained, he felt his legs give way. With a shudder, he slipped out of her mouth and fell to his knees to hold her close. “Katherina.” He sighed before he took her mouth with his.

He always loved her taste, the sweet warmth of her kiss. But, when she tasted of sex, tasted of them both combined, it was almost enough to make him hard again. “Katherina.” He dragged them both down onto the plush rug, wrapping her tight in his arms.

God, when was the last time he had called her that? Had really thought of her like that?

Too long.

Far too long.

“Thank you, Peter.” Kat yawned and cuddled close.

“I should be saying that to you.” He wiped the corners of her lips. “I came. You didn’t.” He’d change that as soon as he could move again.

“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered against his shoulder.

“Of course, it does.” He snorted. Silly girl.

“It was still the best—” She stopped suddenly, her relaxed body suddenly going tense.

He twisted to look down at her. “What?”

She bit her lip.

“Tell me.”

She turned away. “Nothing.”

“Katherina,” he warned.

She shook her head again.

“Kat,” he said, pled, softly before he stroked her shoulder and arm. “Please.”

She shrugged, before saying very quietly, “It was the best sex we’ve had for a while.”

“Excuse me?” He straightened his glasses on his nose.

She shrugged again, burrowing closer to him. No matter how he turned or tried to hold her so he could look at her face, look into her eyes, she hid from him.

“Hey,” he said, holding her away from him by the shoulders so she met his gaze, “talk to me.” He frowned when her eyes widened with anxiety before she shifted her gaze downward. “What is that supposed to mean?”

First, they weren’t having enough sex and now the sex they were having was bad.

“Have I not been—” He shook his head, not sure what he wanted to ask, wasn’t sure what he wanted her to answer. “Have you not been satisfied? Have I not been good enough for you?”

“No, you’re always good,” she said, biting her lip and shrugging, “enough. Of course, you’re good enough.”

Enough. Good enough? Why didn’t that sound like a compliment?

He winced. Probably because it wasn’t.

“It’s just.” She sighed, sitting up, curling her arms around herself as if she were taken by a sudden chill. “We don’t really..."

“Really what?” He hated how defensive he sounded and fought hard not to pout.

She cringed and looked up at him, her black eyes pleading. “Play,” she answered, her voice quietly apologetic. As if it were her fault. Even though they both knew it wasn’t. “We don’t ever really play anymore.” She shook her head. “Not like we used to.”

He sat up too, staring at her dumbly. He gaped, at a complete loss of words.

“We don’t go to Donovan’s. We barely see our friends anymore. And this,” she said, gesturing to the bed and the array of toys spread out around her, “we never use any of this stuff anymore.” Her gaze, desperate and ashamed, met his for a moment before dropping, a furious blush climbing her cheeks. “I miss it.”

He did too.

Didn’t even really realize it until she’d said something. But, yeah, things had felt off with them for a while. Was this it?

“I feel like you don’t want to play with me anymore.” Her voice cracked, a sure sign of tears.

Peter’s heart broke.

Scooting closer to her, he grabbed her by the elbows, turning her toward him. “Kat,” he said gently, letting his hands rub her arms soothingly, “why did you never say anything?”

She still wouldn’t look at him, her face kept determinedly turned, shielding her eyes but not the tear that trickled down her cheek. “You’d made such a point about not wanting to just have sex anymore. You wanted to make love. How things were different now that we’re married and planning for a family. I didn’t want to push.” Her face crumpled, killing him. “I didn’t want to ask for something you didn’t want to give.”

He swallowed hard. God, he’d messed up.

He cupped her face with his hand, sweeping his thumb under the feather-soft skin under her eyes. He sighed. “If I’m honest,” he told her with a frown, “it does feel different now that we’re married. You’re my wife and the idea of hurting you...” His voice died. He shook his head and looked up at her, sorry and sad. It — the very thought of harming her at all — seemed wrong now. “But I did hurt you, didn’t I?” His brow furrowed and he brushed her hair off her face.

“I just don’t understand why it’s so different.” Her arms crossed over her naked body to pull her hair off to the side. Her hands fisted in the strands, pulling. Her knees clenched tight and her arms hugged over her breasts, like she were shielding herself, protecting herself. From him. “I don’t understand what changed.”

He grimaced. He didn’t think he really did either. He shrugged his shoulders, uncomfortable with being so closely examined. “I guess, before I met you, I never really saw myself getting married, you know. I figured it would happen one day, but never really gave it much thought until you.” He looked at her, curled tight away from him even as she sat in his arms, a bit helplessly. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Kat,” he said almost inaudibly, ashamed. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“You don’t know how to be married,” she asked cautiously, “or you don’t know how to be married to me?”

He shook his head. He didn’t know. “I just want to be able to give you what you want. What you deserve. All the things men give their wives. Security. Love. Respect. A home.” He touched her cheek softly. “I want to take care of you, Kat.”

He just didn’t know how to do that and do this at the same time.

He shook his head, disappointment — in himself, only himself; never her — filling him painfully. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded and swallowed, her lips thinning into a tight, unhappy smile. She leaned in to kiss him gently, almost perfunctorily, on the mouth before reaching up to grab ahold of one of the strong, oak bedposts, pulling herself up to stand before heading for the shower.

He watched her go, her head lowered, her shoulders slumped and resigned, her feet falling silent on the hardwood floor with each step like a sacrifice to slaughter. His jaw clenched as his heart lurched.

She stopped to stand in the doorway of the bedroom for a long, silent moment. Without turning to him, she said softly, “I love you, Peter.”

He heard an unsaid anyway hang heavy in the air.

Peter slumped on the floor at the foot of the bed, watching her walk away from him.

Damn it...

Please check out this novel of interwoven stories with Deep Desires Press!

Kinksters call it play for a reason. Come have some fun!

Life can make love hard, especially in the kink community. Follow an eclectic, kinky ensemble, through a series of interwoven stories, as they struggle to put a little more play into their lives.

Especially when the marriage between Kat and Peter Richards starts to fall apart. It’ll take this community of kinksters to bring them back together again. After four years of marriage, Kat and her husband’s relationship seems so…nice. Not bad. Just average, ordinary. Nice. They haven’t played in forever and she desperately misses it. She wonders if they’ve lost their spark and worries her happily ever after came at the cost of her sex life.

Peter will need the help of their friends  — from an exhibitionist learning to reconnect with her body and appreciate being looked at again, to an exhausted, off-duty cop having a rough night with an unexpected partner, to a Little struggling to keep her roleplay fantasy fresh against the toll of reality’s ticking clock — to remember that, with trust, communication, and the right partners, play can make life and love so much better.

 

Available:

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Listen:

Excerpt

 

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Playing With My Partners

STUCK

Cara was still panting, her body still shuddering, when she heard the door open.

And then close.

Leaving her still tied to the bench, alone.

Not alone.

She inhaled, still trying to find her breath, scenting—sensing—someone else in the room.

She breathed in again, deep and searching.

Money. Power. Man.

Rand.

Her body heated even as an exciting, silvery shiver shot through her.

Rand.

Her heartbeat raced at the thought of her play partner, expectation and anticipation rising, mixing with the sexual satisfaction still humming inside her. She squirmed, knowing what was coming next.

“Look what someone just left here,” his voice, deliberately low and gravelly, raked across her skin. “What a pretty, fucking present.”

Cara jumped—as much as she could in her position—as a loud thwack sounded. She knew that sound. She knew she did. The sound of something hard and harsh against a leather-clad thigh. The sound alone sent heat lancing through her, her body’s reflexive reaction. God, she knew that sound, but damned if she could quite place it.

She stilled—her whole body tense—as she listened, straining for a sound. All she could hear was the sound of his boots as they stalked the room.

“I must have been real good to get a gift like this left for me,” he mused as he walked the room from corner to corner. “Makes a man wonder what kind of nasty, little girl you’ve been to get left bottoms-up and exposed...”

Please check out this novel of interwoven stories with Deep Desires Press!

Kinksters call it play for a reason. Come have some fun!

Life can make love hard, especially in the kink community. Follow an eclectic, kinky ensemble, through a series of interwoven stories, as they struggle to put a little more play into their lives.

Especially when the marriage between Kat and Peter Richards starts to fall apart. It’ll take this community of kinksters to bring them back together again. After four years of marriage, Kat and her husband’s relationship seems so…nice. Not bad. Just average, ordinary. Nice. They haven’t played in forever and she desperately misses it. She wonders if they’ve lost their spark and worries her happily ever after came at the cost of her sex life.

Peter will need the help of their friends  — from an exhibitionist learning to reconnect with her body and appreciate being looked at again, to an exhausted, off-duty cop having a rough night with an unexpected partner, to a Little struggling to keep her roleplay fantasy fresh against the toll of reality’s ticking clock — to remember that, with trust, communication, and the right partners, play can make life and love so much better.

Available:

ebook & Print

 

WANT MORE?

FIND MORE STORIES HERE

Need to Learn a Lesson

THE END OF THE WORLD

Ivy Ferris collapsed onto the bus’s badly upholstered seat, her feet aching in the high-arched heels she wore for her job as an administrative assistant at Saint’s Marketing, a small, niche ad agency. Laying her handbag next to her, she shrugged out of the fitted jacket before undoing the first few buttons on the sleeveless shirt beneath.

The day had been hell. They’d had five fussy clients in and out of the office all day and, to top it all off, Harlan St. James, president of the company was out sick so she’d been forced to play apologetic hostess all day.

She was bone-tired and her face hurt from smiling. All she wanted was to go home.

Home.

It was still such a strange idea to her.

Her mother had been a professor of evolutionary psychology, who—no matter how hard she tried—just couldn’t quite make tenure. So they’d constantly been moving about from college to college, trying to make her positions stick.

Growing up in temporary, month-to-month apartments—and then finally her own college dorm rooms followed by her own cheap efficiency apartment—Ivy had never really had a real home until she’d moved into Marcus Ramirez’s house.

But it’d felt like home since the first time she stepped foot in it. As if she and the space recognized the other’s soul. It looked like the sitcom houses she’d stared at with such fascinated longing when she was young. It was a tall, if narrow, brown Victorian, sandwiched between identical blue and brick-colored ones. Comfortable. Settled. With steepled towers and patterned clay tiled roofs. It even had a white picket fence encircling it. It was what she’d always dreamed of as a child, every time she’d had to pack and unpack her life into as many cardboard boxes as their small, fuel-efficient car could hold.

It was Marcus’s dream house too, she knew. Having been shuffled around the foster system his whole life, Marcus understood Ivy’s desire—her driving need—for a home. He had it too. He’d once told her that he’d bought this house almost before he’d been able to afford it, often choosing mortgage over food because while he could survive a day—even a week—off just scraps and leftovers, he just couldn’t survive losing this house. His home.

Maybe that was why—that strained, awkward night three months into their relationship—when she’d told him her most guarded, rarely spoken secret as they sat in front of the fireplace in his perfect house, he hadn’t looked at her like she were crazy. Hadn’t looked at her—like so many others had—as if she were damaged.

She remembered that thoughtful look on his face, the quiet strength of him filling the room, right before he’d smiled, sat her on his lap, and agreed to be her Daddy. Her Papi.

Ivy looked out the window of the bus at the passing scenery, seeing that her stop was quickly approaching. She sat up straighter. She needed to get ready.

Reaching up to her bound hair, she deftly unpinned the blond curls, letting the spiraled curls fall to brush her shoulders in springy ringlets. She tucked the pins inside her handbag before taking out her disposable makeup removers.

Carefully, she wiped the oil-soaked pads across her face, wiping away her foundation, powder, and blush. Her stress, her worries, and the toll of years. She could feel herself getting lighter, younger, as the weight of the world was wiped away.

Once clean-faced, she felt freer. Felt a smile creep across her face. Not the coy, reserved, proper one she’d been using all day to placate demanding clients. But the smile of a child. Unburdened by worries of crow’s feet or laugh lines. Not mentally measuring the proportion of lips to teeth to gums, aiming for that winning smile practiced to perfection in mirrors. Hers was a smile that spoke purely of joy.

It was magic, that smile. The way it spread through her, changing the way she held herself. The way she saw herself. The way she felt inside her skin. As an adult, she was always so aware of how others saw her. Was so aware of the fact that people were always watching her, judging her, making sure she toed that exacting line the adult world—the real world—set.

But when she stepped into her other role—her other self—none of that mattered anymore. Scooting back in her seat, Ivy marveled at the fact that her feet didn’t quite reach the bus’s floor. She kicked her legs, letting her heels—which now made her think of times long ago when she used to play dress-up in her mother’s shoes—swing and smack against the bus’s wall. She listened to the hum of the engine, to the weary sounds of the other riders, and tried to get her beating feet to match the world’s rhythm. To lose herself in those sounds.

She turned to press her hands and face against the bus window’s glass and watched the familiar neighborhood whoosh past her. She breathed a heavy puff of air against the air-conditioner-cooled pane, watching with delight as it fogged over the world. She took one finger and traced a big heart, taking exacting strokes to make it perfect. Quickly, before the heart disappeared into the clear nothingness of the glass, she scribbled the initials IF + MR in the heart’s center, sealing it—the wish of it, the promise of it—into the ether forever before pulling the bus’s cord to signal her stop...

Please check out this novel of interwoven stories with Deep Desires Press!

Kinksters call it play for a reason. Come have some fun!

Life can make love hard, especially in the kink community. Follow an eclectic, kinky ensemble, through a series of interwoven stories, as they struggle to put a little more play into their lives.

Especially when the marriage between Kat and Peter Richards starts to fall apart. It’ll take this community of kinksters to bring them back together again. After four years of marriage, Kat and her husband’s relationship seems so…nice. Not bad. Just average, ordinary. Nice. They haven’t played in forever and she desperately misses it. She wonders if they’ve lost their spark and worries her happily ever after came at the cost of her sex life.

Peter will need the help of their friends  — from an exhibitionist learning to reconnect with her body and appreciate being looked at again, to an exhausted, off-duty cop having a rough night with an unexpected partner, to a Little struggling to keep her roleplay fantasy fresh against the toll of reality’s ticking clock — to remember that, with trust, communication, and the right partners, play can make life and love so much better.

 

Available:

ebook & Print

 

WANT MORE?

FIND MORE STORIES HERE

Disobey Me, I Dare You

GAMIN

It’s a good night. In terms of atmosphere, at least. Dark and warm, the air just a little heavy with a heady humidity that held a man like a lover.

I peel off my coat as I enter the shadowed alley in the back of the club where I parked my car. Leather may make the look, but it’s damned hot.

Still, a good night in the city, weather-wise. Not so great on all the other fronts. I was supposed to meet someone tonight but, after waiting away a good chunk of my evening for someone who never came, figure it's past time to head home.

I watch as a couple, a little tipsy and a lot horny, stumble out of the club door, helped out by Gabe, his massive hands hard as he shows them the door. The tall man tips his head at me. “Rand,” he greets, as he takes a drag on his cigarette. “Nice night.”

“Could always be better.” I nod back, thinking it a shame the man’s on duty. Gabe’s a good time, if I remember right. Real shame he’s working.

But he is. And, for the first time in three weeks, I’m not. And I’m in the mood for a good time now. Just got off a big sting, a drug ring—little sex thrown in. Vice. I work vice.

Or it works me; six years in and I’m still trying to figure that one out.

I head to my car alone. Again.

My job’s not real conducive to a relationship, you know? Takes me away for long stretches; never letting go till the job’s done. Then there’s always the danger. Got me shot twice. Made me do more bad in the name of good than I’d like to recall. Sometimes the stress of it gets to you too, you know? Gives me a temper sometimes—not proud of it. Not exactly easy to find somebody willing to put up with that for long stretches.

But that’s all right. I like my job and I’m good at it; it’s a good fit. Even without it, I’m not too conducive for relationships either.

It’s why I do thirds. Be the second guy to someone else’s half. Be the less-significant other. It’s easier. On everybody. See each other when you can. Enjoy the hell out of each other. Then walk away. No expectations. No demands. No disappointments.

Except on hot, humid nights like tonight when I’m still fucking alone.

I pause by my car, digging for my keys in my pockets.

“Nice night,” I hear a voice say from the shadows. It’s light, kinda high, like a teenager. Slurred too.

My lips twitch. Just what I need...

Please check out this novel of interwoven stories with Deep Desires Press!

Kinksters call it play for a reason. Come have some fun!

Life can make love hard, especially in the kink community. Follow an eclectic, kinky ensemble, through a series of interwoven stories, as they struggle to put a little more play into their lives.

Especially when the marriage between Kat and Peter Richards starts to fall apart. It’ll take this community of kinksters to bring them back together again. After four years of marriage, Kat and her husband’s relationship seems so…nice. Not bad. Just average, ordinary. Nice. They haven’t played in forever and she desperately misses it. She wonders if they’ve lost their spark and worries her happily ever after came at the cost of her sex life.

Peter will need the help of their friends  — from an exhibitionist learning to reconnect with her body and appreciate being looked at again, to an exhausted, off-duty cop having a rough night with an unexpected partner, to a Little struggling to keep her roleplay fantasy fresh against the toll of reality’s ticking clock — to remember that, with trust, communication, and the right partners, play can make life and love so much better.

Available:

ebook & Print

 

WANT MORE?

FIND MORE STORIES HERE

Looking at You Through My Lens

SNAPSHOT

Darrin Phillips fiddled with the strap of his second-hand, hand-me-down digital camera, wondering what the hell he was doing here at dawn on a Sunday, when any normal person was either getting ready for church or sleeping off last night. If he, a lone black man with a camera, got caught on this empty, abandoned beach-side forest right next to some of the richest, whitest neighborhoods in the city, he’d have a hell of a time explaining himself. Why the hell had he let himself get talked into this? He wasn’t a photographer. He wasn’t even an amateur or a hobbyist.

He was an idiot with a camera he barely knew how to use and a handful of pictures his friends had convinced him were decent enough to post online.

“You have an eye, Dare,” Hayato had told him when the man had first proposed the offer. “A way of looking deep into a person and bringing out their essence and beauty. Of seeing what’s beneath the surface.” Then he’d snorted—an odd sound to come out of the prim, proper man. He’d shot Dare a scoffing look before adding, “Plus, you’ve a reputation of handling even the most stubborn subjects.”

At his job, maybe. Dare worked at Patty’s Playhouse, a children’s arcade and restaurant known for its singing waiters. He wore a stupid toy soldier costume with mitten-hands and sang six-year-old’s burger and pizza orders back to them. He dealt with temper tantrums and crying fits on the daily. Whiny complaints—from parents as well as children—had become the vernacular of his life.

So he’d learned early on to cajole. How to use compliments and distractions as verbal shields against the never-ending assaults. He’d learned how to watch for signs of stress—a wobbly lip from a child, a clenched jaw from a parent. Even in his fellow wait staff, he’d learned to tell when the noise of it all had become too much.

Like he had last week with Wendy—the rag doll waitress—who’d almost slapped a bratty birthday guest armed with spitballs and an early curiosity about that sacred space beneath a girl’s skirt. From across the room, he’d seen the exact minute her temper had flared. The second her rouged cheeks had flushed with embarrassed anger when the precocious fourth-grader had lifted the hooped tulle. In a flash, he’d rushed over in time to grab her pulled-back hand and lead her into a waltz out of the party and into the break room, where he’d poured her a coffee and let her finish her shift unmolested.

It was a shit job and Dare knew it. It wasn’t where he’d planned to be. Wasn’t where he wanted to be for the rest of his life but, he supposed, with working all day with rowdy, hyper kids and tired, on-edge adults, yeah, he’d built a tolerance to stubborn.

He just hoped that carried through to today. The couple approached, strolling the park’s path in the early dusk light. He watched as Hayato and the woman walked, her fiery hair glowing in the climbing sun’s rays as it waved in the chill morning breeze.

Max Wells. Queen bitch of the publishing world. The cocked harpoon in shark-infested waters. Dare wasn’t above admitting that she scared the hell out of him.

Or, at least, he thought she should.

He’d heard rumors about her being a ball-busting ogress. There were legends abound about her shredding grown men with manicured nails before grinding their bones into dust to powder her face.

When he’d imagined her in his mind, whenever he’d listened to those stories, he’d always imagined a giantess. An amazon. A hard, coarse cyborg of a woman built to destroy a man.

Not this woman, who laughed deep and throaty as she and Hayato neared him. She was small. Not even five and a half feet, she wouldn’t so much as brush his shoulder. She was lush too.

Softly rounded, curved and full. And she smiled.

Smiled! With her whole face, from her glossed lips to her dimpled cheeks to her crinkled nose to her warm, brown eyes.

She was gorgeous. She didn’t look like an ogress or a harpoon or even a bitch. Dressed in a long, tan sweater dress and tall boots, she looked like a nymph in the woods. An angel bathed in golden morning light.

“Dare.” Her voice was rich as her laugh. She held out her hand.

“Ms. Wells.” He held out his own, taking her small, graceful, cream-colored hand in his larger, pecan-shaded palm.

“Please, call me Max.” She shook his hand with a surety that both unnerved and eased him. “I’ve seen your work. It’s good.”

“Thanks, ma’am.” He bowed his head.

“Max,” she corrected, tossing her loose, red curls over her shoulder. “The only time anyone calls me Ma’am is during a scene. We’re not doing a scene right now, are we, Dare?”

He chuckled nervously, his face paling at the thought. “No, ma’—Max,” he stuttered.

“And even if we were,” Max said as she turned an impish, knowing grin—one full of innuendo and unintelligible inside jokes—at Hayato, “I certainly wouldn’t be playing the top today, would I?”

“Why don’t we just get started?” Hayato shot a matching smirk at Max...

Please check out my novel of interwoven stories from Deep Desires Press all about living and loving as a kinkster.

Kinksters call it play for a reason. Come have some fun!

Life can make love hard, especially in the kink community. Follow an eclectic, kinky ensemble, through a series of interwoven stories, as they struggle to put a little more play into their lives.

Especially when the marriage between Kat and Peter Richards starts to fall apart. It’ll take this community of kinksters to bring them back together again. After four years of marriage, Kat and her husband’s relationship seems so…nice. Not bad. Just average, ordinary. Nice. They haven’t played in forever and she desperately misses it. She wonders if they’ve lost their spark and worries her happily ever after came at the cost of her sex life.

Peter will need the help of their friends—from an exhibitionist learning to reconnect with her body and appreciate being looked at again, to an exhausted, off-duty cop having a rough night with an unexpected partner, to a Little struggling to keep her roleplay fantasy fresh against the toll of reality’s ticking clock—to remember that, with trust, communication, and the right partners, play can make life and love so much better.

Available:

ebook & Print

 

WANT MORE?

FIND MORE STORIES HERE