Wednesday, 17 October 2018

The Story of Justine (@justineelyot @sinfulpress) #giveaway



Hello, I’m Justine Elyot and I’m here to tell you about my new BDSM menage romance, The Story of Jo.

If you know my work, you can skip to the buy link (or even click away…) now. If you don’t, I’m here to give you a little flavour, so you can make up your mind whether I sound up your street or not.
My first publishing credit was in 2009, in an anthology of stories by the much-missed Black Lace imprint called Liaisons. The story was called Advanced Corsetry and, like most of what I’ve written since, it had a decidedly kinky flavour.

I don’t always write exclusively BDSM erotica – my first three books all covered a broader spectrum, although there were plenty of deliciously deviant scenes in them – but it’s by far my favourite subject matter. There are so many diverse shades and types of dynamic – no two relationships are quite the same, just as no two (or three, or more…) people are quite the same, individually or entwined. I usually write dominant male, submissive female – but again, not always. There’s a smattering of same-sex or bisexual relationships throughout my stories, even when the primary focus is M/f. I’ve written a couple of femdom scenes too – they are great fun.

My first full-length book, later that year and also published by Black Lace, was On Demand. I was so thrilled to have a real book in real shops that I didn’t stop to wonder whether anybody would actually buy it – but they did, and On Demand went to number one in the UK Amazon erotica chart. However, my kiss of success was also the kiss of death, as Black Lace shut up shop the very next month.
Undaunted, I went on to publish several novels for the indie new kid on the block, Xcite Books. My bestselling of these was The Business of Pleasure – a kind of anthology-novel about an agency catering to the fulfilment of women’s fantasies – followed by Meeting Her Match, which was about a woman’s exploration of BDSM and the ‘scene’.

Other publishers followed, such as Totally Bound, Carina Press and the HarperCollins Mischief imprint, who published several novels and novellas of mine. The most successful of those was Kinky, the tale of a chance meeting between a kink-curious woman and a charming Russian immigrant who has decided to earn his living as a professional Dom.

In more recent years, I haven’t been writing so much within this genre, but the mood still strikes me from time to time, and I was delighted when The Story of Jo was taken on by Sinful Press. Once again, it’s the story of a woman’s first plunge into the turbulent waters of a D/s relationship – but in this case, the relationship becomes thrillingly triangular.

Blurb:
I met a man called Emmett, and now I belong to him.
Twenty-something Jo meets Emmett on a team-building course, and her initial disdain for him soon turns into attraction.
With Emmett’s strong but loving hand to guide her, Jo unleashes her inner submissive and they embark on an intense voyage of sexual discovery.
Their mutual fascination sees them exploring bondage, spanking, toys and more, and their romance is as perfect as Jo could hope for, until another man appears on the scene.
She knows that Emmett hero-worships his former boss and mentor, Charles, but when she finds out that Charles is the man who introduced Emmett to the art of domination, she has no idea how to feel.
With fierce desire growing between the three of them, can they find a way to explore this new dynamic without destroying what they already have?


Excerpt:

“I want complete control of you in the bedroom,” he said.
The words shocked me to the core, and when I say ‘core’ I mean the area between my legs.
“Complete…control,” I repeated breathily.
“Within limits,” he amended. “Nothing that will damage or traumatise you, obviously. It’s for your pleasure as much as mine.” He laughed softly and ran a fingertip along my lips. “The look on your face…I’d like to photograph it.”
“Are you talking about, y’know, kinky stuff?”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You look shocked. Are you shocked?”
Was I?
“No,” I said. “I mean…no.”
“So you are that way inclined?” He raised an eyebrow.
“In theory,” I said. “I’ve read…things. But never done…things.”
“But you’d like to do…things?”
Could I admit that I’d dreamed of a man like Emmett, who would come and take possession of my body and my sexuality, relieving me of the irksome responsibility? I’d dreamed of a man who would be dominant yet sensitive, cruel but loving, with a resolutely filthy imagination.
Did he actually exist?
And did I have the courage to find out?
He pulled me in close again.
“Do you want me to take you in hand?” he asked, his voice low and sticky in my ear.
“God, yes,” I shivered.
“Mmm,” his appreciative response turned into a kiss, one of those long, slow, trembly types that only end when your legs start to give way. One hand slid slowly down my spine, moulding itself to the curve of my bottom and squeezing.
“You’re still dressed,” he accused, his mouth still close enough for his hot breath to whisper over my skin. Red wine, spearmint, salmon, a bitter coffee note further back.
“Sorry.”
He quieted me with another kiss, then set his fingers to work on my shirt.

If you’re interested in reading more, the book is available now from:

Author bio:

Justine Elyot is the author of best selling erotic novels On Demand and The Business of Pleasure, as well as enough short stories to fill several anthologies.

She can often be found moaning about stuff on Twitter as @JustineElyot

*****

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/justine-elyot-3/
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thursday, 20 September 2018

What Gives Me Hope


Yes, I’m well aware that there’s nothing more escapist than an HEA romance … unless it’s a paranormal HEA romance, one with plenty of steamy sex. I get it, and I don’t apologize for it. I’ll let you in on a little secret, I DO write my stories to escape. I’m not getting any younger, I don’t have any super power and I’m never going to be an astrophysicist or a prima ballerina. But I have grown up to be a damn decent storyteller, and that, in itself gives me hope. Maybe that is my super power … Sometimes it feels that way when I’m in the zone and my characters and I are in close communion, when I create a world and a situation that broadsides me with possibilities I didn’t expect. Oh yes! Those are the times I definitely feel larger than myself, timeless, living beyond the flesh and bone of physicality. 

Strange, as I started to write this post, I was going to share a list of the things that give me hope. As is often the case when I write – whether it’s a blog post, a journal entry or a story – I end up in a difference place than I thought I would. My list grows and changes, but at the core of it all, it’s writing that gives me hope. It’s knowing that I write tales of hope, it’s knowing that I do it for love. I do it for myself first and foremost because it’s at the very heart of who I am. 

The truth of why I do it, why I write, when writers are struggling in the market, when worthiness of a
work has less to do with success than luck, when I know the cynical side of the business, when I no longer have stars in my eyes, is that I can’t NOT write. The truth is that writing is as essential to me as breathing, and I’m never happier than when I’m penning a story. That gives me hope. That gives me great hope. My purpose is to write. In that hope I can safely explore my mortality as well as imagine my immorality. In that hope I can examine all the facets of me that can’t be lived out in one
lifetime, all the secret depths of me that I keep hidden from the world - both the light and the darkness. In that hope I can face the dark fearlessly. All of the other worlds I create, all of the other people who live and breathe and are flawed and neurotic and sometimes frightening and wicked; who make mistakes and act impulsively and do impossibly heroic things are the hope inside of me, and that hope is steadfast. That hope doesn’t change with the flux of the world around me, and I rediscover it daily in the telling of the tale. That gives me courage to move forward, confidence to share what I write with anyone else who reads stories for an HEA and for a little bit of hope.

Tuesday, 7 August 2018

The Glass Knot - Now an audio book


If you love hot MMF and you love audio books, here's a treat for you. THE GLASS KNOT has been narrated by the brilliant Rebecca McKernon and is available now on Amazon and iTunes. You can also read it for FREE on Kindle Unlimited.



Back Cover Information

What's a girl to do when the guy she falls for is married to another man?

This is exactly what happened to me. Seeing Josh Kendal stroll out of the Mediterranean Sea wearing tight navy swim trunks and looking like a hot new James Bond was a truly delicious moment. Catching sight of his wedding ring was like a kick in the shin and meeting his gorgeous husband, phew, that was enough to make any girl groan at the cruel joke God was playing on her.

But all was not as it seemed, and when Josh needed a woman to sort out a 'delicate predicament' I was the one for the job - heck, what did I have to lose? Certainly not as much as him, literally.

Trouble is, emotions always get tangled, loyalties can't help but be divided and with a night of memories so hot they'd have the devil sweating, there was only one thing for it--it was time to get honest, fight for what I wanted despite society's constraints and open my heart to the people it needed most.





Thursday, 19 July 2018

July Freebies and Lakeland Inspiration


Surely there is no other place in this whole wonderful world quite like Lakeland … no other so exquisitely lovely, no other so charming, no other that calls so insistently across a gulf of distance. All who truly love Lakeland are exiles when away from it.
-- Alfred Wainwright

Hi my Lovelies! There’s a very good reason why I started this post with this beautiful quote from the great Lakeland hero, Alfred Wainwright. Quite by delicious coincidence, all three of my fabulous July freebies are set in the English Lake District. Besides being one of my favorite places on the planet, Lakeland is one of the most atmospheric, and inspiring. The fact that I’ve just gotten back from four glorious days of walking on the fells reminds me once again why it tends to be the place that always brings me home to myself. Everyone should have a place that will do that for them. Having said that, how can such a place keep from being the setting for a good story?






SOOOO! That leads me to some July goodies. Whether you're on the beach or in the shade, in the garden or on a plane, summer heat lends itself nicely to doing as little as possible with a cold drink in one hand and a good book in the other. And thanks to eReaders, you can have the whole library. I'm gearing up for summer travels and making sure my Kindle is well-stocked. Be sure you do the same. Here are three giveaways going on during the month of July with a whole library of great summer reads. Each includes enough to make you want to spend the entire summer curled up reading, and each includes a free KDG read. So follow the links to summer bliss!






The Hotter the Better Steamy Romance Giveaway

https://books.bookfunnel.com/thehotterthebetter/7o1156uuyo



You'll find my sizzling novella, In Training in this fabulous library of steamy romance. Read blurb and excerpt here.







The Kick-Ass Women of Urban Fantasy

https://books.bookfunnel.com/womenurbanfantasy/r09cfeffoq





You'll find my novel, In The Flesh, here. It's the first novel of the Medusa's Consortium series. Read blurb and excerpt here.







Short but not Sweet

https://books.bookfunnel.com/shortromance/mkz0o5zg9l





You'll find my M/M novella, Landscapes, here. Read blurb and excerpt here

SOOOO! Read until your heart is content, and all for FREE!

Thursday, 17 May 2018

Small Flashlight, Big Darkness?


Today’s post is a hard one for me to settle into because it could so easily devolve into navel gazing,
and one of the promises I made to myself and to my readers back when I wrote my very first ever blog post was that I would keep the navel gazing to a minimum. There must be a gazillion writer and write-hopefuls blogging, and each one is convinced that their journey to writing success is totally unique and must be shared. Well maybe not each one, maybe I’m only speaking for myself, in which case, I blush heartily and apologise.

My point is that all of the energy, angst, fear, adrenaline, exploration of dark places, exploration of forbidden places that used to go into the pages and pages of that gargantuan navel-gaze that was my journal now go through that strange internal filtering process that takes all my many neuroses and insecurities, all my deep-seated fears, all my misplaced teenage angst and magically transforms them into story. 

That was sort of my little secret -- that I alone, in all the world, suffered uniquely and exquisitely for my art. I took all the flawed and wounded parts of myself, parts I wasn’t comfortable facing, examined them reflected through the medium of story and found a place where I could view them and not run away screaming. 

Several years ago there was a BBC article asking the question, is creativity ‘closely entwined with mental illness?’I shared it on Facebook and Twitter to find that lots of other writers had shared it as well and the general response was simply that it sounded about right. There were some very moving conversations that came out of those sharings of that article along with the realization -- something I’ve long suspected -- that I am not all alone out there in my vibrant unique neurotic bubble. And really, it comes as no surprise that one has to be at least a little neurotic to be ballsy enough to try to bring, in one form or another, what lives in our imagination into the real world and to attempt to put it out there for everyone to see.

As the article was shared around and the responses mounted, I found myself thinking of C.G. Jung’s archetype of the Wounded Healer. The healer can only ever heal in others what she herself is suffering from. Empathy goes much deeper than sympathy. The human capacity for story is as old as we are. Before the written word, story was the community archive. It was our memory of who we are, our history, our continuity, our triumphs, trials, sufferings, joys, all memorised, filed away, and kept safely in the mind of the story teller. That had to do something to your head, knowing that you were the keeper of the story of your people! How could storytellers be anything other than neurotic? 

It’s a lot more personal now that we have the written word. No one has to dedicate their lives to memorising the story of their people. Now we tell our own story, the story of the internal battles that wound us, the story of those wounds transformed. We all tell our stories in our own personal code. What may well start out as a navel gaze into the deep dark wilderness of Self can be transformed into powerful, vibrant story, and we’re healed! At least temporarily, or at least we’re comforted. And hopefully so are those with whom we share our stories. When I journalled my navel-gazes, I wasn’t interested in anyone else seeing what was on those pages. It was a one-sided attempt at a neurotic house-cleaning. Sharing the story is a part of the healing; sharing the story is a part of the journey.
The Storyteller had no purpose if she didn’t share the story with her people.

The archetype of the storyteller is alive and well. And I believe writers live out the archetype of the wounded healer on a daily basis. 

Most of the time I write my stories because it’s just too much fun not to. That’s the truth of it. I seldom consciously dig deep to find those wounded, neurotic places. Really, who would want to do that deliberately? But the wounded places find me, and they end up finding their way into the story. And what surfaces is never quite what I expected, always more somehow, even if starts as a joke with a workshop prompt involving a tin of pears in heavy syrup.

Thursday, 26 April 2018

Want a hot hockey player as your new book boyfriend?

If so, then check out HOT ICE!




Seven full length novels, all fine as standalone reads (though if you read them in order you'll briefly meet the hero of the next book) and all available on Kindle Unlimited.


Find out more here

Books #1 and #2 are only 99c/99p!

Book #1 HIRED also on audio!


Thursday, 15 March 2018

Feathers and Kink

I'm watching two fat wood pigeons plopped down, all fluffed up, in my birdbath like it’s their own
personal hot tub. My garden is full of feeders and birdbaths which allow my inner voyeur and my inner bird lover to play together, and the baths have been particularly popular during the big freeze we’ve just recovered from. During that time, I periodically broke the ice and added hot water to the baths. In the harshest part of the winter, it is water, as much as food, that birds lack, since it’s all frozen. But all that’s passed now, and these two wood pigeons are simply sprawled having a wallow for my viewing pleasure. That being the case, it’s no surprise that I’m thinking feathers.

Don’t you just love the feel of feathers? I adore feathers! I don’t own a feather boa, since I’ve never found one that goes really well with my walking boots, though feathers are waterproof, you know? Still I never miss an opportunity to stroke anything that has feathers. Sadly birds aren’t all that keen on having their feathers stroked. Our oily fingers are icky to them, apparently. Anyway, because those lovely feathers “zip” together in such a way to allow birds to catch the wind in their wings and fly, they are notoriously difficult to get close enough to for a good stroke of the feathers, rendering them relatively safe from our oily fingers.

Thinking about feathers got me thinking about kink, and kink got me thinking about the Brit Babes collection, Sexy Just Got Kinky. Yup! If you like kink, you’ll find something in these pages to suit you. I can’t recommend this juicy book enough. If you’ve not already read it, the stories are sexy, steamy and fun. And since good kinky fun is a fabulous way to round out the week, I thought I’d share a little feather kink from my own story, A Bird in the Bush.

And I’ve added the links below for instant gratification. J

Sexy Just Got Kinky Blurb:
Welcome to Sexy Just Got Kinky, the third instalment of the Brit Babes’ Sexy Just series. Tantalise your dark side with kinks to make you think. From lovers behind bars to lone ladies behind the lens—fisticuffs and feathers, lilos and lube, scissors and sticks, whips, canes and bondage, there’s sure to be a kink within these pages to whet your appetite, tickle your fancies and heat up cold nights.

A Bird in the Bush

By K D Grace

Cockerel, rooster, male chicken - whatever the hell you wanted to call him, he was enormous! Think Big Bird of the barnyard, and you get the picture. Oh my God! I wanted to bury my face in those gorgeous scarlet and emerald tail feathers while he wriggled his arse and cock-a-doodle-dooed at the top of his lungs.
Okay, let me just clarify before you get the idea that I do obscene things to animals. This was not a real cock … not the barnyard kind. I did say think Big Bird, didn’t I? This was a man strutting around Stoke Park in a fucking chicken costume! And it was a bloody brilliant one – no cheap-arsed papier-mâché, not this cock, no siree! Even from a distance - and it wasn’t much of a distance because I nearly ran into him on the sidewalk in front of the duck pond - I could tell those luscious plumes were genuine ostrich. Even the very thought had my nipples drilling through my vest.
            The ginormous rooster stepped back all chivalrous-like and gave me a well-executed bow. Before I could ask what a big cock was doing parading around the duck pond in Stoke Park, he reached into a leather bag that hung over one broad avian shoulder and pulled out a lollipop, which he unwrapped. And then the cheeky cock stuck it in my mouth brushing the tip of my nose with the soft golden feathers that covered his hands. My dirty mind went crazy. I’ll admit I might have even moaned out loud and rolled my eyes. I mean it was a cherry lollipop, for godsake! The end resembled the tip of a penis all bright and hard like it was anticipating some serious in and out, and the giant rooster just sticks it right in my mouth! It’s bad enough that I moaned, but then …  I slurped. Loudly. I didn’t mean to, honestly I didn’t. It’s just that I was already salivating and having something hard stuffed into my mouth when I was fantasising about a tumble behind the shrubbery with those thick, silky feathers wrapped around me, how could I not slurp? Of course I couldn’t see his eyes inside the chicken head. I couldn’t tell if he was checking out my happy nips, and I sure as hell couldn’t tell if he had a hard-on when his entire body was well decked in plumage. I couldn’t even hear if he was breathing hard because before I could manage to cheek the sweetie and politely thank him, the yummy mummies descended in a flock of excited kiddos, all grabbing and reaching – the kiddos, not the yummy mummies. Without missing a beat, my gloriously well-plumed cock offered me a flyer from his bag and then began handing out lollipops to the kiddos and flyers to the parents. I was left to slurp and watch him shake his tail feathers and flap his winged arms for his young audience. At least they thought he was doing it for them. But I knew he was doing it just for me and my perky buds, and I stood there slurping and watching shamelessly. As he bok-bok -boked and cock-a-doodle-dooed and strutted and pranced and, as his jaunty plumage shimmied and shook, I got wetter and wetter, and I found myself in need of some serious me time.
I'm an avid birder, it's true! I've happily spent days in wet muddy woodlands and in stuffy hot hides to catch a glimpse of birds in action. I don’t care if they’re common blue tits or something rare and exotic just blown in from Africa on a storm. My reasons for watching are a bit different from my fellow birdwatchers and, since there’s no way to put this delicately, I’ll just come right out and say it - I consider watching birds foreplay. I don't care if they're fucking or singing or just loafing. It doesn't matter. They turn me on, and the reason is because they all have feathers. It’s the feathers that heat me up to a sizzle. When I see a blackbird preening, fluttering and flicking its wings and running its beak through its glorious blue-black plumage, or a starling flitting about in a birdbath, chittering and flapping and dazzling, like a sequin-clad can-can dancer in Vegas, well it's spontaneous orgasms for me! Feathers will get me there every time. 
I recognize most British birds by sight, sound and feather, as well as a good few from other countries, so I know my birds well enough to know that as amazing as they are, they had to give up a few anatomical bits to be able to fly. No teeth, hollow bones and, the bad news - no cocks. The good news is that the no cock thing isn’t true of all birds. Did you know that some male ducks have enormous cork screw penises? But in spite of the dearth male members among avian male members, I was quite confident that my Barnyard Big Bird was very well equipped.
On the verge of an orgasm, I watched mesmerized as the glorious rooster danced and pranced, and then turned and headed out across the formal gardens at a trot that was way more graceful than one might expect from a man in a chicken suit. When I could see him no longer, still slurping on my lollipop, I glanced down at the flyer. It read:
Gallinaceous: Chicken to Tickle Your Taste buds!
Have a quickie in our food court or enjoy chicken of the world in our fine restaurant at your leisure.
There was an address on Epson Road just up from the row of estate agents and across from the Turkish grocery store. A chicken restaurant? Seriously? My raucous rooster was strutting his stuff to advertise a chicken restaurant? Fast chicken even, and with a KFC just around the corner. That was seriously plucky. Of course KFC couldn’t boast fine dining now could they? And they sure as hell couldn’t boast a giant prancing rooster. I read the rest of the flyer.
Gallinaceous: sophisticated chicken at an affordable price
Taste the chicken of your dreams.
Would that I could, I thought to myself. Would that I could. I tucked the flyer into my bag for
later. Right now, I was in a hurry to get home and take care of some far more urgent business.
As soon as that glorious big cock was out of sight, I quickly pulled the lollipop out of my mouth and tucked it in a candy wrapper that had migrated to the bottom of my bag at some point, and then I hurried home. I barely had the door shut behind me before I was stripping. I suppose it was my version of a molt, leaving a trail of clothes from the door, all the way down the hall and into my room, the butter and seashore scent of my heat getting stronger as I went. 

Buy Sexy Just Got Kinky Here:

eBook:

Print:



Thursday, 1 February 2018

Making Him Wait: Erotica on a canvas of bondage and discipline

It's Kay Jaybee here! I'm delighted to be popping by the Brit Babes blog to help celebrate the re-release of one of my favourite novels.


My art inspired BDSM-romance novel is back!

Re-released by the brilliant Sinful Press, Making Him Wait, is every bit as hot the second time around.

“Erotica on a canvas of bondage and discipline.”

Combining a multitude of popular fantasies, lots of paint brushes, sculpting, and an avalanche of sex-text messages, Making Wait Him, was immense fun to write.

Blurb

Maddie Templeton has always been an unconventional artist. Themes of submission and domination pulse through her erotic artwork, and she's happily explored these lustful themes both on and off the canvas. But, when Theo Hunter enters her life, she is presented with a new challenge.

Maddie sets out to test his resolve as she teases, torments and toys with him. However, as Maddie drives Theo to breaking point, she soon becomes unsure whether her own resolve will hold out.

At the same time, Maddie must put on the exhibition of a lifetime. As the hottest gallery in town clamours for her best work, Maddie pushes her models harder and higher until they are physically, sexually and emotionally exhausted.

Will Maddie's models continue to submit to her, or will she push them too far? And will she be ready for the exhibition in time? The only way to find out is to wait and see...and the waiting only makes it sweeter!



I thought you might like to read a little taster from Maddie’s life.  It’s always difficult knowing which bit of a book to share- I don’t want to give too much away and so spoilt the book after all!  So the extract I have chosen comes from the very beginning of the when Maddie is training Freya, her newest life model...

Freya rocked a little on her bare feet as Maddie touched her lightly freckled cheek. “No need to look so worried, honey. You are doing brilliantly. It’s a difficult pose to hold for so long.”

“Thank you.” Blushing an endearing shade of pink, Freya lowered the hands she’d nervously clenched before her, giving her employer another chance to see the neat triangle of her semi-shaved pussy.

Maddie, her jeans and t-shirt smeared and spattered with all the mediums of her trade, did not feel the need to mention to Freya that her own knickers were sodden, nor that beneath her holster bra, her nipples were rock hard.

A further buzz from her mobile alerted Maddie to the arrival of another text message. In fact a steady string of muffled noises from her mobile, coming from the pit of her handbag, had been announcing the arrival of texts every ten minutes or so throughout the morning.

Smiling to herself, Maddie continued to disregard her phone and considered the exquisite outline of her companion’s porcelain frame. Most people came to Maddie to be drawn or painted, sometimes as a commission for a lover, husband or wife. Some, however, like Freya, came to the studio as a way of improving their self-confidence. Despite her generally shy demeanour, Freya had proved to be very good at posing as Maddie required and the artist had offered her an occasional job as a life model.

Sometimes Maddie felt she was more therapist than artist – specifically a sex therapist – as men and women alike shared their most intimate secrets while standing on the other side of her easel. Maddie’s studio certainly had the air of an erotic fantasy confessional about it. She wasn’t complaining, however. No other life would do for her now. The job satisfaction Maddie achieved from listening to the dreams and fantasies of others while she recreated them onto canvas, went hand in glove with the personal physical gratification it gave her.

Money being either plentiful or non-existent, depending on the current success of her commissions and sales, Maddie had been forced to develop an alternative form of payment for her models – a reward system for good work. Maddie could tell from the rise and fall of Freya’s chest and the glistening damp skin at the top of her thighs, that she was more than ready to be paid for today’s session.

Closing in on her model, Maddie simultaneously cupped Freya’s slick pussy and left breast with her charcoal-blackened hands, causing an involuntary shiver to ripple through the younger woman’s body.

“Your progress really is outstanding, honey. Few of my models can stay as motionless as you can.” Congratulating Freya on her skill, Maddie left two dark palm prints on the girl’s tits and tapped at the inside of her legs. “Open up. I think you have deserved a treat after all your hard work.”

Gliding her palm over Freya’s mound, Maddie slipped a gentle finger into the slippery canal of the model’s frantically clutching sex, enjoying the murmured mew of contentment that escaped from her lipstick-free mouth.

Pumping gently, the artist brought Freya close to orgasm with steady increases and decreases of pressure – her own mind straying to her mobile. Maddie wondered where Theo was and what he was doing. She knew what he was thinking about. She always knew that. Theo thought about her...
If you would like to buy Making Him Wait, it is available as a paperback or e-book from all good retailers, including-





Thanks ever so much for dropping by today,
Kay xx
 Bio

Kay Jaybee was awarded Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the Erotic Trade Associations

Kay Jaybee has over 150 publications to her name, including the novels Making Him Wait, (Sinful Press, second edition, 2018), and The Fifth Floor - The Perfect Submissive Book One (KJ Books, third edition, 2017). She has also written the novellas Wednesday on Thursday (KJ Books, 2017), Take Control (1001Nights Press, 2014), Digging Deep, (Xcite Press, 20153), A Sticky Situation (Xcite Press, 2013), and Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (1001 Nights Press, 2014). She has written the anthologies The Collector (KJBooks, 2016), and A Kink a Day Books 1-3 (available via the Radish reading app).

Details of Kay’s work, past, present and future can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk





Kay also writes contemporary romance and children’s picture books as Jenny Kane www.jennykane.co.uk  and historical fiction as Jennifer Ash www.jenniferash.co.uk