A Place For
Everything?
First of all I want to thank the fabulous Lily Harlem for
inviting me over to her blog. It’s wonderful to be here, chatting about my
latest book and the parallels with my own life. Or not.
My current series, A Richness of Swallows, is about a
woman who is compulsively tidy. It’s about other things too, but Obsessive
Compulsive Disorder (OCD) is a core theme running through Summer’s story. As I
sit here now surveying the chaotic mess I like to think of as my
office/workspace, I can’t help but be struck by the irony of that. There may
well be a place for everything, but I sure as hell can’t find it.
My husband complains from time to time as he rummages
through the clutter on the kitchen table looking for his keys, but in truth
he’s not much better as our garage can bear witness. I find this an excellent
excuse to stay out of there. Similarly, whilst I do on rare occasions open the
door to my daughter’s bedroom, one peep inside is quite enough. I slam the door
shut and head off in search of a stiff drink. Better not to venture in there,
it would offend even my low standards. I seem to recall that her carpet is
pink, but it’s not seen the light of day in so long I’m not entirely sure any
more. I’m convinced this slovenliness is congenital. My mother’s home is even
more cluttered than mine. She’s untidy and a hoarder too – a fatal combination.
Between us all we have many fine qualities – but being tidy is not among them.
Every so often I have a blitz, as often as not triggered by
some impending visit. My cluttered worktops and untidy desk might be something
I’m happy to live with, but I don’t necessarily want to show them off to all
and sundry. On these occasions I get ruthless, chucking anything combustible
into the log burner and ramming the rest into the bin. In extreme circumstances
I’ll even load up the car and head for the tip.
My blitzed environment does not remain pristine for long.
It’s a constant source of amazement for me the speed at which junk can
accumulate if three messy people put their collective minds to it. School books
and folders piled on the kitchen table, half-eaten bags of sweets in the fruit
bowl (not guilty, Yer Honour, I’m diabetic), pens, notepads, empty coffee cups,
the paraphernalia of an authorly life. The visitors who inspired such
commendable efforts don’t get further than the bottom of the drive before we’re
slithering back into our old slovenly ways.
With Summer Jones in A Richness of Swallows this process
works in reverse. She becomes progressively less tidy as her relationship with
Daniel Riche becomes hotter, more compelling. I suppose it’s safe to say he
takes her mind off the trivialities as she struggles to respond to the
challenges he offers, at the same time becoming more comfortable in her own
skin. Her horizons are broadened by some hard spanking, and even harder sex.
Maybe there’s a lesson for us all in there.
Here’s the series
blurb for A
Richness of Swallows:
An act of random kindness can set off an intriguing chain
of events. Summer Jones’ offer to help a vulnerable teenager lays the
foundations for a friendship which will put her on a collision course with the
one man she most fears and had hoped never to encounter again.
In just one night Daniel Riche introduced her to a brand of pain which left her
yearning for more, if she could but overcome the legacy of fear from her
chaotic childhood.
A Richness of Swallows charts the turbulent relationship of Summer and Dan,
from their explosive first encounter in Cumbria to the wild moors of West
Yorkshire.
Can Dan win Summer’s trust, and accept her as she is, or will the shadows of
her past haunt her forever?
The first two books
in the series, Rich
Tapestry and Rich Pickings are already on general release. The final
book, Rich Promise, is available now for early download, and will be on general release
from 31 October.
Author Bio:
Until 2010 I was a director of a regeneration company in
Leeds, in the UK, before becoming convinced there must be more to life. So I
left, and at last I’ve been able to realise my dream of writing erotic romance.
I’ve been an avid reader of fiction for many years, erotic and other genres,
and I still love reading historical and contemporary romances – the hotter the
better. But now I have a good excuse for my guilty pleasure – research.
In my own writing I tend to draw on settings and anecdotes
from my own experience to lend colour, detail and realism to my plots and
characters. An incident here, a chance remark there, a bizarre event or quirky
character, any of these can spark a story idea. But ultimately my tales of
love, challenge, resilience and compassion are the conjurings of my own lurid
and smutty imagination.
When not writing – which is not very often these days - my
time is divided between my role as resident taxi driver for my teenage
daughter, and caring for a menagerie of dogs, rabbits, tortoises. And most recently a very grumpy
cockatiel. I’m a rural parish
councillor, and I’m passionate about evolving rural traditions and values to
suit twenty first century lifestyles.
I have fifteen (at the last count) titles on general
release, with several more in the pipeline. A
Richness of Swallows is my fourth trilogy in the Black Combe ‘family’. It’s
fine to read it as a stand-alone, but even better if you read The Dark Side, Sure Mastery and The Hardest Word as well. I also have a
‘May to September’ style novella out, a short story in Totally Bound’s Paramour
collection, a raunchy pirate tale in their Jolly Rogered collection, as well as
a stand-alone novel in the ‘What’s Her
secret?’ imprint.
I have a pile of story ideas still to work through, and keep
thinking of new ones at the most unlikely moments, so you can expect to see a
lot more from me.
Here’s a sizzling excerpt
from Book 2, Rich Pickings:
“Open
your eyes, my little slut.”
“I
can’t,” I murmur my protest, sure that even lifting one eyelid is quite beyond
me.
He
responds by slipping the head of his cock into my pussy, stretching my entrance
but not pressing home. That gets my attention and my eyes shoot open. He is
poised above me, his soft smile both sexy and caring. How can he manage to
combine rampant lust with aching tenderness? I can’t fathom it, but he does,
and in a way which is uniquely him.
I
smile back. It seems appropriate. He shifts, and plunges forward to plant his
cock deep inside me.
My
head is thrown back in silent appreciation, and he takes the opportunity to
sink deep, open-mouthed kisses into my neck. He reaches up to cover my still
bound hands in his, lacing his fingers through mine. As he draws his hands and
mine back down the bed I realise that I’m free, and in a sudden and unexpected
burst of energetic enthusiasm I push against him. He takes the hint immediately
and rolls onto his back, pulling me on top. For once I have the opportunity to
be the aggressor, to be active, to take the lead. I relish my unaccustomed
freedom, straddling him and bracing my knees on the bed in order to pump my
hips up and down. My erratic motion lacks Dan’s practiced ease, but is
effective even so. I squeeze my pussy around him, loving the feeling of
fullness each time I sink down on his shaft, the sense that I am stretched and
somehow re-formed around him. Re-made to fit him exactly. In every way.
Heady
stuff, and my mind is reeling almost as much as my body as I gyrate my hips and
thrust ever more frantically. Dan reaches down, takes the finger grip of the
butt plug in his hand again and shakes it sharply. It feels incredible, rammed
up hard and tight against his huge cock, just a slender and sweetly sensitive
piece of my body separating the two. I can feel him, everywhere, in every way.
I
use my hands to press against his chest and push myself upright. I glance down
at him through half-closed eyelids, my breasts now jiggling prettily in front
of his face. That fact seems not to be lost on him as he leans forward to lick
each of my nipples in turn. He lies back, his grin pure sensuality now. His
right hand continues to swirl the butt plug inside me as his left slides
between us to caress my clit again. And I lose it. I’m flying, in orbit, shaking,
convulsing, spasming around his cock as my orgasm ricochets through me again. I
might be screaming. Someone is. The sound continues, lowering to a deep,
contented moan as the sensations subside to just a delicious, satisfying
flutter of nerve endings re-aligning themselves.
As
my climax fades I’m aware of Dan’s low moan, more a growl perhaps. His hands
are on my hips, holding me in place as he thrusts upwards. His movements are
sharp, driving fully into me. His cock twitches hard, the guttural sounds deep
in his throat a clear indication that he is also close. I squeeze my muscles
around him, roll my hips in a slowly, deliberate motion, instinctively seeking
to offer whatever will enhance his pleasure. He clasps me around the waist,
holding me close against him as he lurches his upper body up to press his chest
against my breasts. One final spearing movement and his cock is buried in me to
the hilt. He goes still, holding me motionless as his hot semen fills my pussy.
When
he relaxes his grip and sinks back onto the mattress I fall forward, my breasts
pressed against Dan’s chest. He takes that opportunity to give the butt plug a
sharp tug, and I gasp once more as it pops out. Dan tosses it onto the floor
before wrapping his arms around me.
“It’s
your job to clean that. Later.”
I
snuggle against him, loving the feel of his cock still buried deep inside me.
It’s an intimate moment, deeply personal. Maybe Dan feels it too as he doesn’t
rush to disengage, just allows me to sag against him and drink in the contented
bliss of an exquisite experience shared.
All
good things must end, though, and at last he places his hands on my hips to
gently lift me from him. I murmur my discontent, but he ignores me. He quickly
removes the condom and drops that next to the butt plug—another of my jobs
perhaps? Then he somehow shifts us both to free the duvet from underneath us.
He pulls me back on top of him to hold me close again, dragging the quilt over
us.
And
that’s all I remember.
I
wake up early the next morning, pleasantly stiff, to find Dan Riche snuggled up
close to my back. He’s warm, hard and solid, his arm slung loosely across my
ribs anchoring me in place. I wriggle backwards, easing closer to him, and his
arm tightens. His fingers brush my breast, the caress sensual even in sleep. I
lie in blissful remembering, reliving each moment of last night’s encounter.
The soaring heights and the more challenging bits. With the distance of a few
hours’ sleep, and when set next to the unbelievable intensity of the orgasms he
gave me, even the humiliation of having the butt plug inserted seems trivial
now. He couldn’t have taken me to those heights, I suspect, had he not
previously scared me, jarred my senses. Mastered my resistance.
I’m
beginning to understand, maybe a little, what submission means. What this
lifestyle offers. What it was that Freya found, and once discovered wouldn’t
let go no matter what the disappointments along the way. It’s a powerful
discovery, liberating even. I lie on my side, listening to Dan’s quiet breathing
behind me. I’m content to be still, to just wait, and…
I
catch sight of the discarded butt plug and condom still lying on the floor
alongside the bed. I stare at them, remembering Dan’s words from yesterday. ‘Your job’. I was supposed to tidy things
up. I didn’t. Nothing so remarkable there perhaps. I was tired after all. With
good reason. And comfortable, content to just drift off to sleep. So I left
them.
I
left them there. Me, I left the mess there, just forgot about it and went to
sleep. Me, the compulsive tidyer. Me, the sad person who packs her bag with
meticulous care and only yesterday morning spent ten minutes straightening the
toiletries in Dan’s bathroom cabinet while he waited for me in his bedroom. I
just fell asleep. As if none of it mattered, as if it could all wait till
morning.
Which of course it could, if you were anyone but me. Everyone else would do just as I did and think nothing of it. But that’s not me, I know something is different. Something’s changing. My values, my habits, my beliefs. My priorities.
Lily - Ashe thank you so much for being my guest and for bringing such a wonderful series over to share with us, I can't wait to get reading!
Sounds like a terrific trilogy, Ashe!
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