Thursday, 30 August 2012

When One Is Not Enough

Many of you know I blog regularly over at When One Is Not Enough, the menage blog featuring a host of authors who like to write about two, three or more in a bed.

This week I am talking about 'more' of a different variety - orgasms, yes, as in multiple. Can a man have multiple orgasms? It seems he can. Please stop by and let me know your thoughts.

Lily x

Wednesday, 29 August 2012

Not Her Type by Kay Jaybee

Erotic Adventures with a Delivery Man- Inspired by Couriers...Delivered by Kay Jaybee

Many thanks to Lily for allowing me to gatecrash her site today with a bit of a taster from my e-novella, Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures with a Delivery Man. 


When Jenny’s regular film courier, John, reveals how she has become the center of his sexual dream world, Jenny’s quiet existence is thrown into an arena of desire that she thought she’d long since abandoned.  

One unexpected, head swimming romp later, and Jenny is left wondering if her courier will ever visit her again, and if he does, will he mention the hot sex they had on her living room floor that Tuesday afternoon, or will he pretend that it hadn’t happened?

When the following Tuesday arrives and John reappears on Jenny’s doorstep, the scene is set for a continuation of intensely kinky weekly meetings. There is only one problem. John really really isn’t Jenny’s type...

Kay Jaybee

For the past twelve years I’ve had a part time admin job working from home. Part of my working day involves the arrangement of the delivery and collection of a variety of items from A to B. It seemed natural therefore, when the ultra hot website, asked me to write a novella for their brand new e-print publishing venture, the OCPress, that I should make use of the myriad of kinky (and often rather optimistic) tales my delivery boys have shared with me over the years- whether I wanted to hear them or not!! 

Let’s face it- these guys spend a lot of time alone. When I asked one of them one day a few years ago what he thought about all day as he jumped from house to house, he replied instantly, without pausing to think, “Parcels, the Road, and sex- not necessarily in that order.”  That particular individual then became a constant source of ‘ideas’- for which I am very grateful, and many of which have featured in the chapters of NHT and my short stories, such as Cardboard (Sex at Work, Xcite) and Searching for Her (Sweet Love, Cleis Press).

Most of the delivery guys that knock upon my door have the ability to charm the devil himself, and so I got to thinking- what would happen if one of these jack-the-lads developed a crush on one of his quieter customers? A customer who has a far more interesting past than he could possibly imagine...


“What the hell am I doing? I’m a good girl; I just don’t do things like this.”

A tiny fraction of Jenny’s conscience screamed at her. The remainder of her brain sent her hands on a thorough exploration of the densely haired chest that had unexpectedly appeared from beneath her companion’s polo-shirt. The fact that Jenny had never liked men with hairy chests seemed irrelevant.

Standing in front of her, diving a hand under Jenny’s top, John squeezed her left nipple hard, wonderfully hard, making her squeal with pain-tingling gratification. Removing her shirt at top speed, John freed her breasts from their confinement.

Moving as if on auto-pilot, Jenny’s fingers visited his trousers’ waistband, but in her haste she couldn’t get his belt undone. Rescuing her from her embarrassment with a smile, John mumbled something about it always being difficult to open and undid it himself. Jenny barely heard him as a neat pair of gray boxers appeared, swiftly followed by—Oh My God—the most beautiful dick she had seen in years, perhaps ever. 

As she knelt before him, the voice in Jenny’s head continued its rant, reminding her that she hated giving blowjobs. Since her first experience as a college student, she had neither liked the taste of cock, nor the sensation of being gagged. Now however, working on instincts she never knew she had, Jenny took John deep within her throat. She felt his fingers drag urgently through her knotty, brown hair, raking her scalp as she greedily worked him around her mouth. 

“Hell girl, have you any idea how often I’ve dreamt of you doing this?” John confessed. “Night after night I wank about you, about you holding me in your throat like this.” 

Jenny was consumed with a perverse pride as she listened to John’s words—making her wonder if she should admit to the stolen moments she’d spent alone with a silver vibrator and her own filthy imaginings. Imaginings contrary to her normal fantasies; fantasies that often featured him...

* * * * *

From this unexpected beginning, Jenny and John realise many of their sexual fantasies at approximately 1pm every Tuesday afternoon. Each encounter is more erotic and daring than the next, as John begins to understand exactly how far from Jenny’s usual type he is - for a start, he’s a man...

I must give a huge thanks to Lily for inviting me here today- and to my fleet of boys, be they wears of red and black, brown, green, or blue uniforms- you know who you are - and I am very grateful for those ever inventive minds of yours!

For more information about Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man,  visit my website

Thanks so much Kay for stopping by and sharing Not Her Type with us. I have to confess this was a one sitting read for me. I absolutely LOVED it!!

Lily x

Tuesday, 28 August 2012

Stranded with a Cajun Werewolf by Selena Blake

Please welcome Selena Blake to my blog today. Selena is doing a special tour of British blogs and I am thrilled to have her stopping by, take it away Selena...

Do you believe in Synchronicity?

I do.

There’s usually a point in each of my books where I’m trudging through, trying to make sure all the pieces of the puzzle are fitting, jamming to a song thanks to my trusty ear phones.

And then it hits. A crescendo in a song, a puzzle piece falls, and everything comes together. And it’s a moment of unequalled beauty. Perfect synchronicity. The clue that I’ve been waiting for that will hold the book together and make it soar in readers’ minds.

I’ve found it. I write it. I smile.

This is why I write.

Those joyful little moments where a story comes together after lots of chaos, tears, and much tribulation. Triumph. It’s all there. And at that moment I believe that anything, absolutely anything, is possible. These characters will be together. They, among all the other souls that they could have found or met, are perfect for one another. And all will be right with their world.

Dragons will be slain. Demons with be exorcised. And true love, whether you believe in it or not, will reign.

Happy reading dear friends. Happy reading.


* * * * *

Selena Blake writes erotic paranormal and contemporary romance. First published in 2008, her series Stormy Weather has been on the best seller lists and nominated for awards.

She's a fan of action movies, Diet Coke, Milky Way bars and thunderstorms, not necessarily in that order. Learn more about her online at her website  or catch her at Facebook  or on Twitter 

Blog Tour - 

Monday, 27 August 2012


Please join me over at Ex Libris today where I am chatting about co-authoring.

Sunday, 26 August 2012

Sunday Snog - WIP

I've been away with the delectable Mr H for a week and I've come back refreshed and ready for some writing action. This returns me to my work in progress - BITE MARK - which is the first in a new London based menage series I'm immersed in called ANCIENT ORDER.

While I've been away I've missed my two hot vampires (yes, you read that right, I'm mid way through my first paranormal) Ryle and Aimery and their lucky lady Beatrice, so... I'm going to do something I haven't done before on Sunday Snog and give you a snippet from an as yet, unpublished book. But first, a couple of pics that have helped my muse.

This is a good likeness of Ryle. He's not in this excerpt, but he's the loose cannon of the two heroes, and damn sexy with it!

Brad in An Interview with a Vampire makes me think of Aimery, it's the clothes as much as anything. Read on to meet him...

I took another sip of tea and felt the heat slither down my gullet like a flow of lava. “I don’t even know your name,” I said.
“And I don’t know yours.” He tipped his head and his hair stroked his pristine white collar.
“Beatrice, or rather Bea, I go by Bea.”
He stared at me unblinking. “Nice to meet you, Beatrice, I’m Aimery.”
“That’s an unusual name.”
“I suppose it is if you haven’t heard it before.”
“I haven’t, is it foreign?”
“As far as I am aware it is a German name.”
“Are your parent’s German?”
“No, they were Norman.”
“Yes, but enough about me, what about Denny? He is our chief concern, is he not?”
I glanced at the flickering fire. Aimery’s dark, heavy gaze was like a weight on me. Not uncomfortable, just intense. “I reported him missing to the police last week, but they didn’t seem interested. Said he was a grown man and if he wanted to go walkabout then that was fine.”
“They have more important things to cope with," he said, "than looking for folk who have few friends and family and won’t be missed.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know Denny has few friends and family?”
He hesitated. “I don’t, it’s just a guess.”
I rubbed at an itch on my neck.
His gaze followed my fingertips, he pulled in a deep breath and spoke again, “If Denny had a wife, parents, brothers and sisters, you, just a friend, wouldn’t have felt the need to come into a stranger’s home to seek out information on him.” He lowered his voice. “You look like a sensible girl, Beatrice, I can’t imagine that you generally put yourself at risk like this.”
I swallowed tightly and looked into his handsome face, wondering if he was being sarcastic or genuine.
Did he mean me harm?
Normally I was pretty good with my gut instincts. But something about Aimery seemed to send them out of whack. He was devastatingly gorgeous, way out of my league I was sure, and certainly not my normal type. But there was a restrained air about him. He was cool to the point of chilly and polite to the edge of uncomfortable, as though holding back something he wanted to do or say.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out what it was he wasn’t saying or doing but, at the same time, I had to admit I was utterly intrigued.
“Go on,” he said, leaning forward in the chair. Light from the tall window behind him rendered him almost in silhouette, just a few ocher shadows from the fire glancing across his face. “Tell me everything,” he said quietly.
I cupped my palms around the warm mug I held on my lap. “Well, last time I saw him was in the market, three weeks ago. It was a rainy Wednesday morning, business was steady. Denny had been shouted at by Tony—”
“Who is Tony?”
“His boss, a right wanker.” I clasped my hand over my mouth. “Shit, sorry.”
He shrugged. “I’ve heard worse, and if that describes him in one word then so be it.”
“It does.” I nodded. “And then I was working, preparing a fillet, and I saw you. Then I looked at him, looking at you, and by the time I’d got ten steaks out of the fillet he was gone and I never saw him again.” I shook my head and gripped the mug firmer, took a sip. “He just vanished. Without even saying goodbye.” Tears nipped my eyes. I couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing my best friend again.
Aimery folded his arms, sat back and watched me staring into my mug of tea. I was sure he was giving me some time to compose myself and I was grateful, I wasn’t normally a crier; that kind of behavior would render me a laughing stock at the market. “I’m sorry,” I said, blinking rapidly and refusing to let the tears spill.
“Was he happy in his life?” Aimery asked softly.
“No, not particularly. He wanted more than working in a cold meat market for the rest of his time and he also hoped to…” I hesitated, feeling like I was revealing confidences.
“Please, Beatrice, go on. If I am to help you I must know every little detail.”
I stared at him. His eyes were narrowed and his fingers were meshed tight. There was something solid and powerful about him. His calm assurance and the air of competence and determination surrounding him made my soul fill with hope, but at the same time sent prickles of apprehension snaking up my spine. He was almost too perfect to have landed right here, right now, to help me out of this nightmare.
“Yes,” I said. I nibbled on my bottom lip. The truth wasn’t easy and it saddened me to say it. “Denny wasn’t happy, in fact he was downright miserable, completely in the doldrums.”
“Why is that?” He’d lowered his voice, softened it too. It was more like a hum now, like a concerned parent coaxing a child to speak. “You can tell me, Beatrice, in fact you need to tell me.”
“Denny is gay and they made his life miserable at Smithfield.” There, I’d said it.
“How did they do that?”
“Always having a dig at him whenever they could, typical playground bullying. Calling him an up-hill gardener, ginger-beer, bum bandit, you know the sort. Ignorant and pathetic.”
Aimery frowned. “So why did he stay?”
“He had nowhere else to go, and no one to help him out of the situation. I wish I could have, but what could I do? I live at home with my dad and it’s not like I have loads of dosh to give him so he can start fresh and do the interior design course he’s always on about it”
“Maybe someone has offered him a way out and that’s why he’s gone.”
I shook my head. “No, he would never have left without saying goodbye. We were close, best friends.”
“But not lovers?”
“No, absolutely not.” I was shocked by the question and fiddled with the base of the mug, sliding my fingertip around the smooth pottery. “I just told you Denny is—”
“I know, gay. So maybe he met someone and was swept off his feet, whisked away into the sunset.”
“Do you really think so…ow!”
“What.” He was on his knees before me, reaching for my right hand.
“Bloody hell, that’s sharp,” I said, watching a ruby blob of blood grow on the tip of my index finger.
He wrapped his hand around my wrist and tugged my arm straight so he could examine my wound.
“The base of this mug is chipped.” I glanced at the smear of blood on the shiny surface. “It has a lethal bit sticking out of it.”
“Hardly lethal.” He cocked one eyebrow and swept his tongue over his bottom lip. “But I’m sorry that had to cause you pain.”
“Had to?” I frowned and went to pull my wrist from his grip.
He kept a tight hold, his cool fingers keeping my hand still and hovering before his face.
“Hey, I—”
“Please,” he said almost on a pant, “allow me.” He leaned forward, shut his eyes and wrapped his lips around my bleeding digit.
Instantly I was aware of powerful suction, his tongue soft but firm as he took my entire finger into his mouth, knuckle deep.
“What are you do…?” My words cut off as a tingling warmth spread up my arm. It seeped into my chest, spiking my nipples and creating a heavy weight low down inside of me.
He continued to suck, his cheeks hollowing, his eyes shut tight as though succumbing to ecstasy. My hand felt on fire, but not painfully so, it was good heat, heat that was now burning up my arm and flooding my stomach, my pelvis, oh God, and my pussy.
I squirmed on the seat, captivated by the sensation but also needing to be free of it.
“Aimery,” I gasped. “Please—”
He slid his hand from my wrist to my elbow, bunching my sweater, all the time keeping a tight hold of me.
I felt trapped, pinned in place, but I didn’t mind. His mouth, his tongue, the soft gulping noises he was making as though drinking greedily was mesmerizing. And my pussy, the heat was intense, the pressure building. My clit was pressing against the gusset of my knickers and in turn against the seam of my jeans.
A small groan weaved its way through my throat. He responded my placing his other hand on my thigh, and smoothing it upwards, to the juncture of my legs and pressing against my clothing.
“Ah, oh, oh, what is happ—” I couldn’t speak another word. A small, trembling orgasm was ravishing my cunt. Fingers of pleasure burst outward, clenching my gut and curling my toes. I screwed my eyes shut, slumped back in the chair and dropped my head down.
As the spasms faded I was aware of the heat in my chest, arm and hand subsiding. I opened my eyes and re-focused.
Aimery was staring at me, his pupils were enormous. He kept a tight hold of my wet finger, the end now pale and the slit in my skin void of blood.
“Just as I suspected. You are truly an exquisite find,” he said.
“What, what just happened?” I was being treated to quivering, orgasmic aftershocks, my breath a little hard to catch.
“You have a very rare blood type,” he said, cocking his head and again licking his lips.
“Yes, I know,” I said a little dreamily. “I have to store some in the local hospital, my mother did before she passed too.”
“Bombay,” he said. “Truly a delicacy.”
I tugged my hand from his and this time he released me. “What the hell?” Despite feeling a little dreamy, I jumped up and scooted to the middle of the room. “How would you know that?”
“I just tasted it.” He stood also, towering over me.
I rammed my hands on my hips, this wasn’t making any sense. “No one has ever heard of my blood group, barely anyone in the world has it and if it wasn’t for some throwback gene of mine I wouldn’t either.”
“Hardly sensible to go into a profession where cutting yourself is a daily hazard then.” He smiled, almost lazily. It was the first time I’d seen him even vaguely relaxed since I’d met him.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I snapped. “Again.”
He broadened his smile, kept his eyelids heavy and reached out and stroked the back of his thumb down my cheek.
I hitched in a breath. His proximity, the way he smelled this close up—sweetly spiced, like man and sex—filled my senses. But I wanted answers. I was confused, angry, scared, turned-the-hell-on by him. How did he know my blood group just from tasting it?
“You really don’t know how special you are, do you?” he murmured.
Suddenly his lips were on mine. Lips that had been wrapped around my finger moments ago were moving, soft and pliant, teasing my mouth open. I felt helpless to resist. I didn’t want to. Aimery was class-A-gorgeous, despite his over-enthusiasm for sucking my blood.
He delved into my mouth, the tip of his tongue searching and tangling with mine.
I joined in, played the game, opened up and tilted my head to deepen our kiss. Allowed myself to fall into the delicious flavor of him and the fantastical moment.
Suddenly I remembered why I was there.
“No,” I stepped backward, away from him and toward the door. “Aimery, what are you doing? I though you were going to help me find my friend.”
“I am.” His brow creased and he rubbed his temple. “I will.”
“Come back tomorrow.” He sighed. “I will have news of Denny by then.”
“How can you know that?” I shook my head, watched him fold his long body into the chair by the fire. He crossed his legs, hooked his hands over the arms and rested his head back, as though preparing for a nap.
“I just know,” he said. “Trust me.”
“What makes you think I can trust you after…after, that?”
“Because,” he said, settling his gaze on me. “You, Beatrice, have just become my world and I will do anything to make you happy.”
My heart rate rocketed and it was going like the clappers anyway. “Don’t be so ridiculous, we’ve only just met.”
“I’ve met lots of people, and I’ve always known whether they are special within a few short hours of becoming acquainted and you, well…” He paused and folded his arms. “And you, let’s just say, it just took me a while to get past all those other smells you have lingering around you. But now I have I know that you are indeed very special.”
His riddles and over-zealous declarations suddenly irritated the hell out of me. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” I said, turning and striding toward the door. “You’re just too weird, all this smelling me and then sucking my blood. What are you a bloody vampire or something?”
 “Beatrice,” he said wearily. “Don’t go, not yet.”
I turned as I reached for the handle. “Its Bea, not Beatrice. And I’m going because this is freaky. I thought you were going to help me find Denny?”
“I will. Please, come back tomorrow and I promise I won’t disappoint you.”
Annoyance gnawed at me. I pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway. Slammed it shut so hard a picture of a wolf, shot through the neck with an arrow, shifted on its hook.

I hope you liked that little snippet. Watch this space for news on BITE MARK which will, hopefully, be released 2013.

Have a great Sunday

Lily x

Friday, 24 August 2012


Interested in where I get inspiration for my novels? Then head on over to my website and read all about it...

Sunday, 19 August 2012

Mattress Music - Sunday Snog

Welcome to Sunday Snog! This weeks' smooch is from Mattress Music, the first in a set of three novella's featuring sexy rock 'n' roll band The Manic Machines. In this first scene we see Nina trying desperately to enjoy the hot guy she's picked up in a bar. Trouble is she's struggling because of the music she's put on to cover up the sex noises...

Elton was killing me. I needed to do something—fast. I glanced at my iPod in the far corner of the room. The small blue circle stared at me uncaring, as if it knew I’d lost the remote in the move and could do nothing, in my current compromised position, to shuffle the droning song.
And boy, did I need to fast-forward Candle in the Wind. It had conjured a head full of images of Marilyn and Diana, big hair, sweet smiles, churches, orphans—
And it seems to me you lived your life—
I pulled in a deep breath and focused my attentions. What did it matter what song played? Its purpose was to mask noise as I concentrated on Ian, the hot guy I’d picked up at the Solo Bar. He was where my thoughts should be trained, not icons and princesses and worrying about my new flatmates hearing our sex noises.
Because bless him, Ian was doing his best down there, licking and sucking, swirling and fondling. Hell, he even had two fingers searching out my G-spot. But what could I do? My head wasn’t in it—
Your candle burned out long before—
Neither was my body...
“What’s up?” Ian asked, throwing off the duvet as he came up for air.
“Nothing, I’m fine.” I curled my hands over his wide shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss. He tasted of me, hot and spicy, slippery-tongued. He settled his sheathed erection between my legs and prodded my entrance. All I could think of was Marilyn being found in the nude, Diana forever in England’s greenest hills.
“God, you feel good,” he said in a tight voice. “So damn good, I won’t last long.” He had a rugged, should’ve-shaved look and now, hovering over me with his face flushed, pupils wide and a sheen of sweat on his brow, he really was drop-dead gorgeous.
I wrapped my legs around his hard thighs and encouraged him in. Despite his appeal, it was just as well he wouldn’t last long. Because there was no way I was going to climax, not with Elton warbling on miserably about dead people. Might as well get it over with, then I could turn off the abysmal mattress music and get some sleep.
He pounded to the hilt on his first plunge. I caught his uncontrolled moan in my mouth to stop the guttural sound vibrating through the walls into my flatmates’ ears. I had three—two guys and a girl. They were nice, friendly, but I hadn’t been living at 62B Chiltern Apartments long and I was on my best behavior. Last in, first out played on my mind—if any of the longer-tenured residents complained about my weekend habit of picking up strangers and fucking them stupid, it would be me who had to leave.
“I’m coming,” Ian gasped, racing in and out of me like a jackhammer, our skin hot and sweaty, dark coils of his chest hair sliding against my jiggling breasts. With one hand, I grabbed hold of the headboard to stop it banging and tried to find a spark in my clit. Elton carried on singing, totally oblivious to my predicament.
“Aah...” Ian grunted as he froze, buried as deep as he could possibly go. I clamped my vaginal muscles and gleaned what physical pleasure I could from having a hard rod pulsating deep inside me. He tried to lift his head but I pressed his nape and caught his second long moan in a kiss.
He quivered and shivered and then his weight landed hard. “You’re fucking awesome,” he whispered into my ear on a hot, panting breath.
“You too,” I said, running my hand down his perfectly smooth back. Not a pimple anywhere, just acres of glorious hot, male flesh and a deeply guttered spine lined with solid muscle. “Really good.”
He lifted his head and looked into my eyes. “Liar.”
“Liar, you didn’t come.”
“I did, it was were great.” Lying to a man who was buried inside me was not something I was good at.
“I’m not stupid, Nina, I can tell when a woman orgasms. I can’t always tell the difference between real and fake, but bloody hell, you didn’t even try to pretend, not even a little wriggle and a gasp at the right moment.”
Frowning and shifting my hips, I muttered, “Sorry,” as I pushed out from under him.
“Don’t be sorry.” He rolled to his side, bent his arm and propped his head on his hand. The flat silver cross around his neck hung toward the mattress. “Just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it for next time,” he said, still catching his breath.
Next time? Not likely. One-night stands were my game. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” I pulled the duvet to my chin and turned to the wall. “It was me.”
He caught my jaw. “Tell me,” he ordered, tipping me to face him. “I want to know.”
Through the dim light, blushed orange by a streetlamp, I could see his dark eyes staring straight into mine, unblinking. One of my flatmates banged crockery in the kitchen next to my room then a deep rumble of laughter from one of the guys, Jerry I think, filtered through the thin wall.
“Why do you care?” I asked, toes and fingers curling.
“I’m lying naked in bed with you, we’ve just shared as intimate an experience as two people can, and you wonder why I’m bothered that you didn’t have as good a time as me? Would I be human if I didn’t give a shit?”
I shrugged. Candle in the Wind had finished, and in its place Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me was swirling around us.
Too late to save myself from falling—
That was me, I thought, too far gone on this road of shagging any cock I could find to be saved. In my old flat, living with Dee and Fiona, life had been great and mattress music was never needed. We all just went for it, having as much sex and as many noisy orgasms as possible. We would giggle about it over breakfast and swap stories about what racy shenanigans we’d been up to.
But now they’d moved on. They were both head over heels in love and settled in their own homes, leaving me out on a limb and living here with strangers.
Of course I wasn’t technically alone, but if I was honest I’d never felt so lonely. I didn’t want to be, loneliness was like a dull, gray hole swelling inside me. Starting in my stomach and stretching outward. And in the center of this hole was a new bitter emotion—envy. I envied what Dee and Fi had found, lasting love with respect and commitment. But admitting what I wanted and changing the fact that there was no one special in my life were two separate issues.
More pressingly, at the moment anyway, nor could I change the fact that I hadn’t orgasmed since I’d moved. My one-night stands just weren’t doing it for me anymore. The intimacy of getting naked and sweaty with someone wasn’t satisfying the hunger, the need that was eating away at me like an itch I couldn’t quite reach.
I’d been here three weeks, three fucks. But each week there had been something sneaking into my brain that had distracted me from the delicious buildup to climax. Deadly quiet the first week when I was with a bodybuilding scaffolder from Durham, every mattress squeak and grunt sliding under the door and echoing through the walls. With Dave, an earnest accountant from Chelsea, a knock on my door midway through a blowjob put me off my stride. And now this morose mattress music was stopping me from having a great time with the truly gorgeous Ian.
“Nina?” Ian pressed, dragging me from my depressed musing.
“It was the damn music,” I said with a frown. He wasn’t going to let it drop so I might as well fess up. “I couldn’t concentrate. You were doing it right, great, but I just kept thinking of Marilyn Monroe and Princess Diana and Elton singing at his piano with his big, wobbling white wig and that mole thing he used to paint on his cheek.”
Ian tipped his head back and laughed. A big guffaw that shook the bed.
“Shh!” I pressed my fingers to his lips.
“Thank God for that,” he said, grinning. “Thought I’d lost my touch.”
“It’s not funny,” I whispered.
“No, no.” He tried to straighten out his grin. “Of course it’s not. I’ve just never thought of it before, the words in a song competing for the attention of the woman I’m trying to please.” He dropped a kiss to my lips. “So why did you put it on if you don’t like it?”
“So no one will hear. The walls here are so thin, and I’ve got male flatmates who I don’t want perving with glasses pressed to the walls.”
“You think they would?”
I sighed. “Probably not, they seem nice enough, but just the same...”
“You want your privacy.”
“Exactly.” I paused then sighed. “We should have taken a cab and gone to yours.”
“Yeah, but this was closer, much closer, just a quick walk around the corner.” He smoothed the hair from my face. It always went wild after sex. The hundreds of tiny, copper corkscrews seemed to take on lives of their own. “Maybe we could leave the music off and do it really, really quietly,” he whispered, spreading springs of my hair over the pillowcase.
“No,” I said. “That won’t work, I’ll be too conscious of even our breathing, or if the mattress squeaks.”
His eyes narrowed and a muscle in his cheek flexed, then he got up, dropped the condom in the bin, walked to the iPod and finally silenced Elton. “This isn’t over, you know.”
“What isn’t?”
“” He flopped back down, scooped an arm under my shoulders and pulled me onto his chest. “Go to sleep,” he said quietly, rubbing a circle over my bare upper arm. “I can tell you’re exhausted.”

Have a great Sunday :-)

Lily x

Friday, 17 August 2012

Thursday, 16 August 2012

5* review for FREE story MORE

Natalie and I are thrilled to have our first Amazon review in for our FREE short story, MORE.

IF Venus and Mars read this the world would be a better place.

This is a delicious conversation between a wife and her husband from the minds of Lily Harlem - Scored and Natalie Dae. They did a fabulous job of how a married couple should communicate in the area of sex and what they both want.

The wife is the more dominate of the two but that doesn't mean the husband didn't give her what she wanted and then some. I think couples should read this together and enjoy the effects it will bring afterwards. Wonderful job ladies!

Buy Links

Amazon US
Amazon UK

Tuesday, 14 August 2012


I am having a few days away with Mr Harlem, camping on the English coastline, but I am not leaving you empty handed. Go grab a copy of MORE between the 14th and 18th of August - its FREE!!

Sunday, 12 August 2012

Smut by the Sea

Smut by the Sea is a fantastic new anthology edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse. It's light hearted, sexy fun by the sea, from the sun soaked bays of Australia to the rainy coastal towns of England.

So whatever your interpretation of naughty seaside fun is, there's something nestling between the covers for you. Surfer boys, sea creatures, pirates and the fairground abound in this exciting collection. And yep, if you're wondering, I have a story nestled in these saucy pages too. It's called Swashbuckling, and let's just say I was having a Johnny Depp/Captain Jack Sparrow moment!

Today's Sunday Snog therefore, has to feature a kiss from this book, here you go...

I slowed as I approached The Magpie. There was very little light away from the shoreline, the moon only a thin and feeble crescent. It was just as well I knew this pontoon like the back of my hand. 
When I reached the stern, Roberto wasn’t there so I came to a halt and looked up at the majestic ship. Atop the main mast was the crow’s nest, swaying gently this way and that. I wondered what it would be like to sit up there, with Roberto, peer into the horizon and look for adventure. Adventures we could seek out together.
“Come this way, Matilda.”
Roberto’s low, rumbling voice both startled and thrilled me. I looked through the darkness, but he was nowhere to be seen. The only thing I was sure of was that he was on The Magpie already. 
Taking a quick glance over my shoulder, for I knew my father would chop off my feet for stepping on this ship, I gripped the roped handrail and strode up the steep walkway to the deck, grateful there was a spill of lamplight leading the way. I didn’t fancy landing in the sea, it was inky black, bone-chillingly cold and deathly deep out here.
The second my soles touched the deck, strong arms wrapped around me. I was drawn against a solid body, my palms landing on sharply angled collarbones.
“Ah, now you are mine. Any woman who steps onto this ship becomes mine, did you know that, Matilda? Mine to do with as I wish. To take as my heart desires.”
“Captain,” I gasped, not sure whether I should be terrified or delighted that he could do with me as he wished.  “But you said—”
“I know what I said, Matilda, and yes I will give you something sparkly and pretty, but you must also do something for me.”
Our chests were pressed close, he’d shed his moleskin jacket and wore a flamboyant white shirt undone to his navel. I could only make out his mouth in the dim light, his hat shading the upper half of his face. “What…?” I managed, aware of my nipples heaving through my bodice against his hot torso. “What do you want me to do?”
“While my men keep your father distracted, I want you to show me if that saucy glint in your eye is for real, or if it’s an act.”
“What do you mean keep my father distracted?”
He laughed, a deep guttural sound that echoed around us then floated up to the stars. “While my crew fight he won’t notice your absence and it’s kinder than tying and gagging him.”
I gasped, both at the horrible thought of my father bound and gagged and that the bar fight had been orchestrated so I could slip away.
“So tell me,” he said onto my lips. “Are you as hot for me as your green eyes suggest every time I step ashore here, or are you just a temptress, an actress, born to tease seafaring men out of their minds?”
“I am no tease.” 
He twitched his eyebrows. “That was the right answer, come, this way.”
He meshed his fingers with mine and tugged me towards a doorway. 
I ducked into the ship's inner sanctum and we strode down several narrow corridors. Finally he pushed open a wooden, arch-shaped door and ushered me through.
“Wow,” I said, looking around the magnificent bedroom. It was lavish and ostentatious, with a four-poster bed, polished oak dressing table and several plush armchairs. Dozens of candles were arranged along high-lipped shelves in storm jars. Their flickering flames dappling the wooden walls gold and amber and casting long shadows onto the floor. “This is spectacular.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said, shutting the door behind us and turning a large iron key in the lock—from the key hung a long black feather.
“The room is so big,” I said.
“You should get used to that about me. Everything is big.”
I turned, a rush of heat spreading on my cheeks. “Captain!”
He took my hand and pressed it to his groin. “Now is not the time to get shy, Matilda. You willingly stepped aboard my ship and in doing so gave yourself to me.”
His cock was hard and rigid, straining against his leather breeches. The roundness of its girth and the solidity of the length sent a flood of heat to my pussy. I was no stranger to the feel of a man’s cock, and this one felt a prime specimen.
I gave a long, hard stroke to show I wasn’t afraid of the beast in his briefs.
He groaned and arched his hips.
“Captain, I do believe it’s been a while since you had a woman’s hand on you.”
“You believe right. It has been an arduous few months at sea.”
His fluttering eyes and parted lips made me daring. “So why are you still dressed?”
Suddenly he hit his mouth down on mine, hard and insistent, his kiss an explosion of intensity that made my knees watery. I released his cock and clung to him, my body weak and pliant against his big, strong one.
With one swift move I was in the air, his arms around me as he strode further  into the room. I heard his hat fall to the wooden floor with a clatter.
He tipped me onto the bed and I whimpered, the loss of his mouth and his arms abrupt.
He tore off his shirt, exposing a wide chest covered in black whorls of hair and broad shoulders the colour of well-baked bread.
“Your clothes,” he said. “Get them off.”

Have a great Sunday, here are the buy links for Smut by the Sea

Lily x

Saturday, 11 August 2012

SCORED - free today!

Today is your last chance to grab your FREE copy of Scored for Kindle...

Amazon US

Amazon UK


Okay, so I eat, sleep and breathe football and reporting the beautiful game is my dream career. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have time for a major crush on the England captain, Lewis Tate. The bloke is sex on legs, hot with a capital H. Add in his awe-inspiring talent, his brooding good looks and what’s not to lust after?

So my excitement is sky-high as I set off with the official press team to cover England’s battle for the European Cup. But when a series of unfortunate, or as it turns out fortunate events, attracts Tate’s attention my way, who am I to say no?

Add in a misogynistic manager, an over-zealous colleague, two blue silk ties and some incredible ball-handling skills and it becomes clear the road to victory, for me, will be an intensely erotic journey. Determined to savor every moment, I hang onto my sanity as best I can while living the fantasy and wondering if it can ever become reality. Because once Lewis Tate has taken me to heaven and back, its clear no one else will ever compare.

Lily x

Thursday, 9 August 2012


MORE is an erotic short story by myself and Natalie Dae and is now available on Amazon Kindle at just 99c. (77p)

It tells the tale of a woman who is desperate for more and how she struggles to get what she wants... here are the first few paragraphs to whet your appetite.

Don’t just slap me once, it’s not enough. I want more. I want you to strike my ass, your fingertips just brushing my cunt lips, and I want you to do it again and again. I heard a woman can come just from being slapped like that. Don’t you want to try it? Don’t you want to see if it works? Don’t you want to know that you can get me off just by those delicious hits?
I’ll get on my hands and knees for you, and you can stand beside the bed, the perfect position. I’ll tilt my ass up and spread my legs so you can see everything—my widened ass cleft, my sopping cunt—and wait for you to hit me. The waiting is the best part, you know. Waiting for that first hit, for the bite of skin on skin, then anticipating those that will follow. And those that follow will burn—burn so hot that I’ll want to tell you to stop yet at the same time I’ll wish for you to keep going. To see if the hotter it gets the hotter I get. To see if your fingertips meeting with my fleshy cunt does what it’s supposed to do. You could even slap my whole pussy, middle fingertip striking my clit, just so I could say that one time, just one time I was spanked.
It wouldn’t be so difficult once you got started, I promise. You’d see me getting high, hear me grunting and groaning, and fuck, wouldn’t that just make you hard? I’d be at your mercy. You’d be the one in control, deciding how hard to hit and how often. And if it’s not enough, I’ll tell you.
“More! I want more!”
If I knew you were hitting me and playing with your cock at the same time, that would get me off faster. Knowing you were enjoying it as much as me…I couldn’t ask for more than that. And if you used lube on your dick, and I could hear you working yourself over… The sounds created would be just like those you make when you’re finger-fucking my cunt. Do you like that sound? It makes your breathing shorter, makes you growl a little in your throat, and that’s what lube on your cock does for me. Gets me hot.
You’ve slapped me once in the past, just the once, and I remember waiting for the next blow. It never came, yet throughout our fuck I still waited, thinking, He’ll do it again in a minute. Please do it again. I never said I was disappointed when a follow-up slap didn’t come—it had taken all your courage to hit me as it was—but I was. Disappointed and wanting.
I wanted more—moremoremore—and now’s the time to give it to me.
Will you try it? For me?

Buy Links

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Also in this set of short stories, coming soon...

Have a great day

Lily x

Scored is FREE again!

That's right, between on Friday 10th and Saturday 11th of August SCORED will be available for FREE on Amazon.

So quick, go, grab a copy of SCORED. Read it, enjoy it, review it and shout about the hotness of Lewis Tate from the highest mountain!!


Okay, so I eat, sleep and breathe football and reporting the beautiful game is my dream career. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have time for a major crush on the England captain, Lewis Tate. The bloke is sex on legs, hot with a capital H. Add in his awe-inspiring talent, his brooding good looks and what’s not to lust after?

So my excitement is sky-high as I set off with the official press team to cover England’s battle for the European Cup. But when a series of unfortunate, or as it turns out fortunate events, attracts Tate’s attention my way, who am I to say no?

Add in a misogynistic manager, an over-zealous colleague, two blue silk ties and some incredible ball-handling skills and it becomes clear the road to victory, for me, will be an intensely erotic journey. Determined to savor every moment, I hang onto my sanity as best I can while living the fantasy and wondering if it can ever become reality. Because once Lewis Tate has taken me to heaven and back, its clear no one else will ever compare.

* * * * *

Reviews for SCORED

Miz Love Loves Books

Scored is a fantastic read--especially, and pardon the pun, if you're a fan of football/soccer. Ms Harlem's voice is a delight--very fresh and lively--and she has the ability to put me right there amongst the characters. Her style is always a pleasure too, and Scored--here comes a pun again!--is one of the top scorers out of the books I've read so far this year.

Amazon reader review

Scored is a book that has a great story line, meaningful character development and wonderful depth of character interaction. Woven into the story line is hot steamy sex; equals a marvelous book. If your a football (soccer in US) fan and want a good love story with hot sex, this is must read!

V Blisse

I can thoroughly recommend Scored. It’s a clever story with twists and turns and lots of hot sex and football. What more could a girl want!

Lily x

Wednesday, 8 August 2012

Fulfill Me by Victoria Blisse - new release


Caitlyn is out to get what she wants and she desperately wants Nick Casey, Star of Dobsons Digs the biggest soap on TV. She will do anything to get into his life but one thing, one person always stops her. His annoying yet handsome PA Mike. 

But there is more to Nick and to Mike than she could ever have first imagined. She ends up on a journey from one side of BDSM to the complete opposite and all the time she’s just looking for the man who can make her whole.


“Yeah, I’m not enjoying it like I used to, and I have other ways to bolster my income. I’ll let someone a little younger and a lot less long in the tooth take over my place.” 
“Wow, now there’s a scoop for the tabloids.” I laugh but Mike stiffens, and I realise it was a silly joke to make. 
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Well it was a joke. I’d never ever—I just wouldn’t.” I trip over the words in my eagerness to make things right. 
“No, no you’ve gone too far.” His hand squeezes my arm and his eyes don’t show the same anger as his words. “You’re going to have to be punished for speaking out of turn you impudent wench.” 
Ah, now I know what he’s doing and the pit of my stomach is rolling like a machine full of lottery balls. 
“I’m so sorry, sir, please don’t punish me. I’ll watch my tongue in future, I promise.” 
“You will do wench, but you still need punishing. Stand up.” 
I jump up off the sofa like I bounced up on a broken spring. 
“Now young lady, follow me.” He stands up and walks me back out into the corridor then across it to a room I’ve not been in before.  One of many actually from the length of the corridor and the doors along it. When the door swings open, I can see clearly that it’s a study. 
An old wood desk dominates the middle of the room. It’s back faces a massive window which shines as black as Whitby jet filled with the night sky.  In one corner of the room is a simple high backed chair with no arms. This is where he chooses to sit down and after shutting the door behind me I stand before him. 
“Now only a young, foolish child would speak without thinking, so you’ll receive a childish punishment. Over my knees now young lady.” I hesitate, biting my lip. “NOW!” He barks, making me jump. “Don’t question me young lady, or you’ll not be able to sit down for a fortnight.” 
I concede and lower myself awkwardly to his lap, the bottom of my clothed breasts rubbing the outside of his thigh, my pubis pushing gently against the other.  He quickly raises my skirt, folding it back over my bottom then he rips down the satin black knickers beneath. 
 He rubs his hand gently over the curve of my buttocks and I bite my lip, not wanting to moan out in case it enflames him more. I’ve never been spanked before but my cunt is wet and my nipples aching. However I’m not sure how much pain I can take. The idea is pleasurable, but the practicalities of it all make me anxious. I want to enjoy it, it’s obviously something he enjoys; I can feel his erection against my stomach. But I just don’t know how much punishment I’ll be able to take. 
Suddenly, the thought is shocked from my mind as his usually soft hand slaps down with stinging harshness. It shocks me but it isn’t too uncomfortable. The next slap creates more heat than sharpness. I gasp and press my pubis forward trying to escape the next slap. It burns and I really start to question how much I can take.
It’s then that he gently caresses my burning rump and I mewl like a contented kitty until he snaps his hand back and slams it against my flesh several times in quick succession making me yelp with the stinging pain. 
His fingers skim over my heated flesh then dip between my buttocks, tracing down between my thighs as they fall open for him, dipping into the moisture pooling there and gently teasing my clit. 
“Such a horny little slut, enjoying her spanking.” He tuts and slaps my buttocks hard once more. I feel tears testing the corners of my eyes and want to yell out for him stop but I hold it in while the next two slaps fall. 
“Stand up, wench.” He commands and I comply, though my legs feel shaky, and my knickers are dangling between my knees, making it decidedly difficult to stand up and keep my balance at the same time. He grabs my arm and drags me; well he never gets far in front of me so it’s more like he’s roughly leading me actually, until we reach the hefty desk. He kisses me and whispers in my ear. “You’re so fucking sexy, damn it.” He presses me down against the cold hard wood until my cheek is lying flat against its shocking coldness and my breasts are pressed down hard against the surface. 
“Spread your legs,” he commands and I stretch them as far as I can, which actually isn’t far with the knickers hobbling me. Mike flips up my skirt exposing my still stinging buttocks to the air and his eyes. His soft lips kiss the reddened flesh evoking a gasp at the tenderness in the action. I close my eyes and wait for what will come next. I hear the clink of a belt buckle, and hear him curse as he struggles to undo his zip. I wonder if he’s having problems getting his hard on out. I could feel its stirrings pressing against my stomach when he spanked me, and I know it’s a solid robust thing, not made for bending or getting out of tight places. Getting into them; well that’s a whole different issue. The tell-tale crinkle of a condom packet heightens my anticipation. I know he’s going to fuck me and I can’t wait. 

Buy links:

All Romance eBooks

Amazon UK

Amazon US