Best Weather for Sex

Best Weather for Sex

I had always heard that when you write sometimes your characters will demand to be written. They will command your attention and consume you with a need to tell their story. This has kind of happened with some of my characters, but nothing like Jaxon. Jaxon captivated me.

Jaxon and Maribelle are feeling like they may become something more than just this story. Who knows? But they sure know how to make the best of a rainy day.



Rain on the Tin Roof by Eloisa Hilton

It was hard to start over at forty. I left everything behind. My family. My friends. Everything. I struggled with the decision to leave and after he hit me so hard that I had a concussion and some broken ribs, my best friend Wanda helped me pack a suitcase and leave. Once I got to Upton, it seemed like a good place to land. Small town. Not a ton of people, which hopefully meant not a ton of questions.

It was my turn to restock the shelves at the store. It was so hot outside that I was grateful that Ed let me work inside instead of out in the garden part of the feed store. I was tasked with checking all of the horse tack inventory so Ed could place the order. I was lucky and landed this job when I moved out here after my divorce. I needed a fresh start. Ed paid me enough to pay the rent on my small cottage rental and my other expenses.

I was up on the step stool reaching up to count the cow rope halters when I lost my balance. I fell backwards and expected to fall smack on my ass. But instead I was caught by a pair of strong arms.

“Careful there,” a deep voice said. “You ok?”

Out of reaction, my hand went to his chest. It was hard. I turned and looked into his whiskey colored eyes, the wrinkles around his eyes, the result of working for hours in the sun, matched the smile that crept over his face. He had a thick salt and pepper beard that highlighted his tan skin.

“I’m fine.” I managed to get the words out, my breathing heavy. “I think I can manage standing up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He put me down gently, effortlessly. “I didn’t mean to hold you that long.”

“It’s fine.” I looked down. “I should get back to counting,” my eyes roamed back up to his and they locked. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Anytime.” He tipped his hat. My knees were weak. “You new here?”

“Yeah. I just moved to town about a month ago. I’m usually in the back.”

His eyes twinkled. “My name is Jaxon,” he extended his massive hand.

“I’m Maribelle,” I said as I reached out and let his rough hand shake mine.

You could tell a lot about a man by his hands; the kind of person they were. Jaxon’s nails were clean and trim, his palms calloused. If I had to guess, he worked hard with them. Very hard. His grip was firm, but gentle and it sent shockwaves to my core. My breath caught.

“Nice to meet you, Maribelle. I hope to see you soon.”

“I’ll be here.” I sounded like an idiot as I felt my shoulders creep up. Lord help me, he smirked.

I walked over to the counter and told Jo that I needed some water.

“Girl, we all need water after Jaxon comes in.” Jo fanned herself.

“What’s his story?” I asked, desperate for information. “Is he older than me?”

“He is older. Late forties, I think. And recently single.”

“Oh, divorced?”

“No. Never married. His long-time girl left him for some man in the city. The smile he gave you was the first I’ve seen in a year.”

I felt heat creep up my cheeks. “You saw that?”

“Maribelle, everyone in the store saw him cradle you; and the smile that followed.”

“I’m not about that. I just want to do my job.”

Jo’s eyebrow cocked up, “Whatever you say. Did you finish counting the rope?”

“Yes. I managed to do that before I fell. Be grateful. He saved you from a Workman’s Comp claim.” I grinned.

“Right. He definitely did that.” She smiled. “Mari be careful. I don’t think he’s ready to get involved with anyone. This is the first time I’ve seen him come to the store himself. Normally he sends one of his ranch hands to put in the order.”

“A man is the last thing I need.” That’s what came out of my mouth, but my body felt different.

A week had passed, and the cowboy hadn’t come back in. I couldn’t help but think of how good it felt to be in his arms. He held onto me effortlessly, like I was some skinny girl that weighed nothing. Not the curvy woman that I am.

I decided to go to the diner for breakfast. Jo had gone on and on about how good the pancakes were, and I had a little extra cash. I brought my coffee cup to my lips when he came in. Fitted t-shirt. Fitted jeans. Boots. His arms were sculpted perfection, fighting to be restrained by the fabric of his shirt. My breath caught when he tipped his ballcap to me and walked towards my table.

“Can I join you?” He said.

Jo’s words echoed in my head. It’s breakfast, I thought. “Sure,” I responded trying not to let my face give away my excitement.

“Thanks,” he said as he removed his hat from his head and sat down across from me in the booth.

“I hear the pancakes here are incredible.”

“Best pancakes I’ve ever had. Is that what you’re getting?”

“Uh huh.” I nodded, losing the battle to the grin that escaped.

He grabbed the menu and ordered not only pancakes, but eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast. I observed everything he did. He took his coffee black. I couldn’t stop looking at his eyes. We talked about farming. He told me about his cattle and that the farm had been in his family for years. I sat and listened eagerly to the passion in his voice about his work. We sat there laughing and talking for well over an hour.

“Do you need to get to work?” Jaxon asked.

“No, it’s my day off.”

His lips curled upward all the way to his eyes. “Want to come out to the farm?”

I bit my bottom lip. I wanted to see the farm that had this man so enamored. “Right now?”

“Yeah. Is that ok? I don’t mean to intrude If you have other plans.” His whiskey eyes dead locked with mine.

My day was wide open, but I didn’t want him to know that. I ran my tongue on my bottom lip before I spoke up, “Well I did have an errand…”

He interrupted, “We can try another time.”

I felt my eyebrow go up. “You didn’t let me finish. It’s an errand that can wait. I want to know all about your farm.” I felt a smile crawl across my face.

His eyes looked at me intently. Heat crawled up my spine and into my cheeks. The waitress brought our checks and he quickly picked them both up.

“I can pay for my own breakfast, Jaxon.” This wasn’t a date. That’s the last time I ever remember a guy paying for my meal and it didn’t end well.

“Maribelle, my Dad taught me how to take care of a lady. Rule one is that she never pays.”

Oh, my name off of his lips. It sounded melodic; a song that only he could play.

“But this isn’t a date. It’s two people having a meal.”

“Feels a bit more than that to me, hun.” He waved the check at our server to take.

“What does it feel like to you?”

“It feels like I want to get to know everything about you. That makes this a date, lady.” I took a deep breath in and out. A smile appeared on my lips and he cocked his eyebrow. “Let’s get out of here.”

I sighed and nodded. The waitress brought our check back and we left. He insisted on driving us after we walked out. He walked me over to his truck and opened the door, helping me in. His hands got me. They we hard and rough, but gentle. Jaxon held my hand as I climbed up into the truck as though it were a delicate flower he didn’t want to crush. A swarm of butterflies took residence in my stomach as he shut the door to the truck and walked around to climb in on his side.

We drove for what seemed ages. He had such a weird mix of music. It was classic rock and then country. And everything in between. There was no rhyme or reason as to what came on the playlist. I tried to focus on the music, on the scenery as we drove far out into the country. Field after field passed through the window. I turned to look at him. His muscular arm pulling at his shirt as he drove. His rough hands on the steering wheel. He grinned.

“Maribelle, what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” I lied. So many things were running through my mind. I was in a truck with an incredibly hot man that I couldn’t believe I was with.

“Tell me your story. What brought you here? Nobody comes to this town on purpose.”

“I’d rather not. You’d let me off right here and make me walk back to town.” I looked down. He reached over and grabbed my hand, brought it to his lips. I sighed.

“Try me, girl. We all have our dark stories. Mine would scare you to death.”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m here. Not going anywhere.”

I looked over at him and he was looking straight at me as the truck bumped over the dirt road we were on. Intuition told me I could trust him. The only person that knew this story was my best friend from back home, Wanda. I bit the inside of my cheek. A tear escaped down my cheek and I hurried and wiped it away, praying that he didn’t see it. He turned down a long driveway.

“We’re at my farm. I’m going to stop the truck so I can give you my full attention. It looks like you’re carrying quite the load. I might could help.”

He put the truck in park and undid his seatbelt and turned to face me. I couldn’t look at him. His massive thumb tilted my chin to look at him. I opened my eyes and saw a face hardened by the sun looking at me with gentleness that took my worry away. The tears flowed as I told him the painful details of my failed marriage. Of the time that my ex-husband beat me so badly while I was pregnant, that I lost the baby and the ability to have any more. The beating was so bad that the doctors couldn’t control the bleeding and had to take my womb.

I sobbed in the truck. Confessing all of the hurt and pain that my ex had caused me. I told Jaxon about the final beating that led me to divorce him. I saw anger in his eyes, but it was different than the anger I saw in my ex’s eyes. It was righteous anger. He didn’t interrupt. He let me talk and get it out.

I took a heavy breath. “I’ve never told anyone. I moved here to get a fresh start. If you want to drive me back, I understand.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I’m broken. No one wants someone as broken as me.” I was crying hard and looking down at the floorboard.

His rough hands reached up to my cheeks and cupped my face. “You’re beautiful and strong. He was an asshole.” Jaxon wiped my tears. “Let’s go see the cows.”


“Yes. Come on. They always cheer me up.” He cocked his eyebrow and smiled.

I sniffled. I couldn’t say no to that. “Alright, but only if it’s fun.”

“With me, it is.”

We drove out to this massive field and parked. He walked around the truck and helped me out, putting his massive hands on my waist. He made me feel small, but in a good way. I rested my hands on his shoulders as I got out of the truck, slowly sliding them down to his chest. I looked up at him and swallowed. My nerves were getting to me. I wanted to kiss him. No. I wanted him to kiss me. My breathing was heavy. My head tilted up to his face. My eyes staring at his lips.

“Maribelle,” he whispered, his breathing was also heavy, his hands gripping my waist tight. His massive hands making me feel small and delicate. “How could anyone hurt you?”

I looked up at his eyes. “I asked myself that for 10 years.”

“Come on.” He took my hand and closed the door of the truck.  

We walked into the field and he let out this noise. He said he had to call the cows. I doubted this and thought it wasn’t going to work, but sure enough cows started coming close to us. It was probably the most bizarre thing I had ever seen or experienced.

“Go ahead, you can touch them,” Jaxon said.

Laughter poured out of me as I pet the cow. More began to crowd around us, and I turned and faced him. He pushed his hands on the cows and they started to disperse a bit.

“I like hearing you laugh,” he chuckled.

Almost as if it was meant to happen, the sky opened, and it began to rain. A sun shower. The cold rain made me laugh even harder and Jaxon pulled me closer to him as he tried in vain to keep me dry. I gazed up at him as the rain continued to pour down. I cupped his cheeks, running my fingers through his beard, lighting the fire inside of me. His hands were locked on my waist and he pulled me closer to him. He leaned in and his lips caressed mine. Our tongues intertwined, slowly moving against each other as I ran my hand from his beard to the back of head, deepening the kiss.

He let out a moan and the rain pelted down harder. There was a crack of thunder. I jumped. He pulled back and tucked my hair behind my ear.

“We should get inside. This storm is only going to get worse.”

My breathing heavy, I looked up into his amber eyes. “I need to get home. I can’t.”

“Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Jaxon, I, I…”

“Let’s get out of this rain.”

I nodded. We ran back to the truck. He put me in and then got in himself. As we drove to the house, the rain got worse.

“What happened back there?” He asked as he put his rough hand on mine.

“I haven’t felt like being with a man in so long,” my voice trailed off.

Jaxon brought my hand to his lips. “We aren’t all like your ex-husband.”

“I know. I’m nervous.”

“Maribelle, I’ve been hurt, too. I thought I’d never smile again.”

“I’m sorry,” I said as I put my head down.

“It’s not your fault. The way I see it, we can either keep being sad, or see what this is. No pressure, but I’m not going to stop trying. You’re too remarkable to stay alone for the rest of your life.”

I bit my bottom lip. “Neither should you.” We pulled up to the house.

“Come with me, lady. I’m different. Let me prove it to you.”

Lord help me, I wanted to know what it would be like with Jaxon. I wanted to feel his hands on me. I wanted to live for once. I knew he would be gentle. I knew at the core of my being he would be different.

“I’ll come in with you.”

“Maribelle, you won’t be sorry.”

We ran from the truck to the porch and stopped before we got inside. We were both dripping. I looked down and my white dress was soaked, sticking to my body and not leaving anything to the imagination. Jaxon grinned as he looked my body up and down. I bit my bottom lip, acknowledging his approval.

“Let’s get out of these wet clothes,” his hands moved to the hem of his shirt.

“Out here?”

“Yeah, there’s no one around.”

He pulled his shirt off and exposed his chest. Jaxon’s chest was defined, but not overly ripped. It was covered in salt and pepper hair. I didn’t think I would find a hairy chest attractive, but I was so turned on by it. Especially the line down the center of his chest that went all the way down to the waist of his pants.  I licked my lips as he took off his boots and then unbuttoned and removed his soaked jeans. I stopped ogling him and pulled my dress off. I was embarrassed at my less-than sexy white cotton panties. At least I had on a pretty bra. Instinctively I covered my stomach. I didn’t want him to be repulsed by my scars.

He walked towards me and wrapped me in his arms. “You’re shivering.”

“I’m ok. The rain was just cold.”

Jaxon rubbed my arms in an effort to warm me up. “Let’s go inside.” He took my hand and led me in the house. I kept one hand around my waist.

He closed the door behind us, and his eyes looked at me with a combination of desire, hunger, and compassion. The sound of the rain on the tin roof intensifying.

“Why are you covering yourself, Maribelle?”

I looked down at my feet. My heart was pounding so hard I thought my chest was going to explode.

“I don’t like my scars,” I whispered, unable to look him in the eye.

He walked over to me and moved my hands. The feel of his rough skin on mine sent tremors of pleasure between my thighs. The lace of my bra felt painful against my hard nipples.

“What scars? I see signs of survival.” He unhooked my bra and threw it to the ground. My breasts fully exposed.

He ran his fingers over the scaly marks on my stomach. He kneeled down in front of me. He hooked his thumbs into my white cotton panties, looked up at me and said, “I want to see you.”

I rested my hands on his shoulders and smiled. I nodded yes. He slid my panties down and I stepped my feet out. He ran his fingers up the outsides of my legs before kissing me at the apex of my thighs. Then his tongue entered my slit. My fingernails dug into his shoulders and a moan escaped from the deepest part of me.

It was the first time a man had given me oral. I had no idea it could feel this good. I had never been the object of a man’s attention. I was required to please without any pleasure of my own.

My orgasm was building deep inside of me. I threw my head back as he sucked on my clit hard and inserted two fingers inside of me. He fucked me with his fingers, and I came hard, my juices dripping down my thighs. Jaxon turned his head up with a look of satisfaction. His eyebrow raised.

My chest heaving, I ran my fingers through Jaxon’s thick hair. He stood up and brushed my hair out of my face as he towered over me.

“You ok, lady?”

“Yes. I’d never had that done to me before,” I said feeling his erection poking me in the hip.

“Mari, that’s a shame,” he said as he held me. “I’m sorry that you’ve never had someone eat your pussy before. Your pussy tastes amazing. I plan on doing that regularly.”

He scooped me up by my thighs and wrapped my legs around his waist. My arms went around his neck and I rested my forehead against his. His dick teased my opening with each step to his room. I tried to grind down, but his hands wouldn’t let me slide down.

“You want me, Maribelle?” His husky voice dripped with amusement.

“God, yes,” I panted.  

“I think I can grant that request,” he said as he sat me on the bed. “I need you to do something for me first.”


Jaxon walked over to the side table, grabbed a condom out of the drawer, and walked back over to me. His cock was in my face. I couldn’t help myself, but I took the entire length in my mouth and cupped his balls. I stroked his cock with slow, deliberate movements in and out of my mouth and with my hand. Jaxon’s cock in my mouth felt so good. I let my tongue glide over him, flattening it so that I could savor it. I pulled it out of my mouth and licked the clear liquid off the tip of his shaft while looking up at him. Jaxon’s breathing was heavy.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “That’s not what I had in mind, but damn.”

“Oh,” my hand still working him. “What did you want?”

He handed me the condom. “I want you to put this on me so I can make love to you. I need to be inside of you right this minute.”

My lip curled up in a smile as I took the foil packet from him. I opened it and rolled the condom down his immense shaft. He was long and wide, and damn me, I needed it to fill me. Jaxon was different. His tender touch was something I didn’t know I needed.

He pushed me back onto the bed. “Put your arms around my neck. I want to take my time.”

I did as he asked, and he lifted me further onto the bed. He laid between my legs, looked into my eyes and ran his finger down the side of my face. His mouth crashed into and he kissed me with a ferocity I had never experienced. I met his intense need with hunger that only he could satisfy. Our tongues colliding and wrestling in our mouths. He thrust into me. Hard. My hips thrusting up to him, my pussy greedy for him.

“You feel incredible,” he moaned out as he broke the kiss.

“Jaxon,” I breathed out, throwing my head back. I was full of him. The empty ache inside of me satisfied. I didn’t want this feeling to ever end.

“You ok, baby girl?” He asked with his cock at rest inside of me, his rustic eyes examining my face for any signs of objection; signs he would never find.

“Please,” I begged.

“Please what?” He grinned.

“Please keep going,” I panted.

“Whatever the lady wants, she’ll get.” He began to thrust in and out slowly.

Every time he thrusted in, my hips lifted to meet him. We worked in unison slowly. His cock hitting my g-spot. My wetness increased with each thrust. My core was tensing as my orgasm started to build.

Jaxon looked into my eyes as his movements became faster and harder.

“You’re stunning,” he said.

I scratched his beard and smiled. My orgasm was looming. It wasn’t going to take much. I pulled him to me and kissed him with everything I had. His thrusts grew frantic and I let go, my pussy pulsing around his cock. He plowed into me and had his release.

He held himself up, his muscular arms on display. I ran my fingers up and down the length of his arms, allowing them to follow every indentation and crease.

“This wasn’t what I intended by bringing you back here, Maribelle.”

“Me either. Regret it?”

“Absolutely not. You got a rare erotic moment from me.”

I closed my eyes. I was grateful for this moment from him, even if it was all I would get.

“Hey,” he said.

“What?” I responded with a grin.

“I hope that’s not the only one we have.” He leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on my lips. “Come on. I want to do one of my favorite things with you.”

My brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

He pulled out of me and I instantly felt empty. He disposed of the condom and reached his hand out to me. “You’ll see.”

I got up off the bed. He grabbed the quilt and then took my hand. I followed him through the house. The rain was still falling outside. He opened the front door and we walked outside, naked as the day we were born. He walked us to the porch swing and put the blanket down on it. He sat and pulled me between his legs and wrapped the blanket around us. I laid back against his chest, his arms wrapped around me. He kissed my cheek.

“Being out here and listening to the rain on the tin roof is my favorite thing.”

“It’s heaven.”

“With you here, now it is.”

Can I Bring a Friend?

5 Worst Places To Have A Threesome In Newport, RI - The Newport Blast

This is not my usual type of writing. But we are adults here and we can all admit we have different fantasies. To me a fantasy is something that we desire that we may never act on or share with anyone else. I will confess that this short story was inspired by a dream that I had one night. I’m not sure that I could ever have a threesome. I’m in a monogamous relationship of over 20 years. But nevertheless the dream came to me.

The topic of threesomes isn’t something new. There are so many articles about it. It was even featured on Sex and the City in more than one episode. I had so many questions before I sat to write this story out, most of them did with logistics. I have never had a threesome so I wasn’t quite sure how all of the working parts fit together, so to speak. I decided to just let my mind wander and my fingers work. Here’s the result- I hope you enjoy it.


Beachside Exploration

Jane and I have been friends forever. Every year we took a trip to a different place. We had gone all over the world. Paris. Rome. New York. This year we decided to head to the beaches of Hawaii.

We spent every day we could out enjoying the sun and the sand. The ocean that sounds the Big Island is clear and so very blue. It had been so hot out on the sand. We had to keep reapplying sunscreen. Jane and I have opposite skin colors. She is very fair skinned and she always got sunburned, where as I have an olive complexion and turn GBD, golden-brown-and-delicious, with even the tiniest bit of sun.  

I was slathering more lotion on her back when she said, “Eleanor, that guy is watching us. Do you see him?”

I looked up and there he was. He was staring hard. I looked eyes with him and flashed a grin. “Damn girl! He’s so hot.” I handed her the bottle of lotion.

“Yeah he is,” she said as she took the bottle from my hands and sat up and kneeled behind me and put sunscreen on my back.

He kept staring. His eyes never wavered. He didn’t try and hide the fact that he was watching us. A nervous rush of excitement flooded over me knowing that this handsome stranger’s full attention was on us. I decided to feed into what I thought he wanted. I squirmed a bit as Jane rubbed the lotion into my back, running my hands up and down my thighs.

“Eleanor, what the fuck are you doing?’

“Play along, Jane. Let’s give our friend a show.”

“We aren’t lesbians.”

“He doesn’t know that. Come on. It’s like when we go to a bar and some random doesn’t leave one of us alone.” I turned my head so that I could look at her.

She pursed her lips and then grinned. “Alright. Let’s have some fun.” Jane gently put her lips on my sun kissed shoulder.

His eyes sharpened as I bit my bottom lip. Jane moved back next to me and laid on her stomach. I ran my hand down her back and we both giggled. The corner of his lip curled upward as he hooked his thumb into the waist of his swimsuit. There was some sort of tattoo on his waist. I couldn’t quite make it out as it was under the waist of his shorts. I needed to see it. Jane pointed at him and beckoned him to come over with his finger. A full smile came over his face as he walked over.

“What are you doing, Jane? He’s coming over here.”

“You said you wanted to have some fun. Let’s ask him to come back inside with us.”


“Yeah. Come on, Eleanor. We’ve been friends for a long time. It doesn’t change that we both love dick. If I was going to experiment with a girl, I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

I thought and chuckled. She was right. I wouldn’t experiment with anyone else. And why not today with this hot man that looked like he was sculpted out of clay. He looked like a Viking. Red hair. Red beard. Perfectly sculpted muscles. And oh so tall.

“Hey ladies,” his voice was husky and he had an accent. He squatted down in front of us.

“Hi, I’m Jane,” her voice perky, “and this is Eleanor.”

“Hello,” I said looking up into his green eyes.

“I’m Matt. You ladies from here?”

“No. Jane and I are here until Monday. You?”

“I’m local.”

I looked at Jane, who gave me a knowing grin. I had a good idea of what she was thinking. I gave her a nod and decided to let her take the lead. She was into this guy. Little did I know how far this was going to go.

Matt sat in the sand in front of us and we talked for a while about the usual stuff. Matt told us how he worked as a coach at the local high school. As the conversation progressed, he made a comment about how we were getting a bit sunburned as he gently traced his finger down Jane’s shoulder.

“We probably should go. We have that dinner reservation,” I paused. “Matt, would you like to come back to the room with us?”

Jane glared at me and bit her lip. A wicked grin appeared on Matt’s face.

“You want me to come to dinner?” He asked.

Jane turned at looked at him and ran her hand up my thigh. She knew what I was thinking. “If you want. Or you could just come back to the room with us and help us relax.” She turned and looked at me. Instinctively I tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek and then looked back at Matt.

“You could join in or just watch.”

“I can’t say no to that offer.”

Jane and I picked up our things off the sand and we each took one of Matt’s arms as we walked up to the hotel from the sand. I took the room key out and we walked into the room. Matt put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door before closing it.

“Matt, can you wait for us on the bed? I need to talk to Jane for a hot minute.”

“Yeah, baby. Take your time.”

I grabbed Jane by the hand and took her into the bathroom and closed the door.

“Oh my God, Eleanor are we doing this?”

“Yeah girl. We are. Should we have some rules or something?”

“Like what? I’ve never had a threesome before.”

“Well you’re more into him than I am. So how about if he fucks you with his dick, but not me?” I giggled. “I think this is the weirdest conversation we’ve ever had.”

She laughed. “Yeah it definitely is.” She chuckled. “Okay, but if I get the dick, how about you? Are you just going to watch?”

“No, I want to feel him. Let’s just see what happens?” I shrugged my shoulders.

“Let’s do this.” We both took a deep breath as she opened the bathroom door.

Jane held my hand and led me out of the bathroom. Matt was sitting on the corner of the bed leaning forward. He looked fucking delicious. Jane led the way over to the bed. I was impressed at her confidence. I was nervous as hell. I had no idea what to expect or what to do.

“Ladies, relax. Just go with what feels natural.” His intense stare didn’t help calm me, but Jane turned and face me.

She cupped my face and nodded. I nodded back. Jane’s lips gently pressed against mine. I had never kissed a girl before. Her tongue slowly entered my parted lips. I felt a desire I didn’t know I could have. I felt the wetness between my thighs grow as she sighed through our kiss. Every movement of our tongues was deliberate as we explored each other’s mouths.

I let my hands wander her soft body. Her skin was so different than the men I’ve been with. Her ample breasts pressed against mine, my nipples aching against the fabric of my bathing suit. As if she knew, she moved her hands from my face to my back and untied the strings that were holding the top in place. I broke the kiss and looked at her. We were in sync. We both reached one hand over to Matt. He stood from the bed and came over to us.

“That was hot ladies.” He leaned over and planted his mouth on Jane’s and ran his hand over my breast. I moaned and he moved his mouth from Jane to me, his hand now on her breast. One of hand wandered to the bulge in his shorts, the other went under the fabric of Jane’s bathing suit. My finger grazed her outer folds and she moaned.

Matt broke the kiss and grabbed both of our hands. He walked us to the bed. Jane climbed on the bed and laid on her back, knees bent. I dove between her legs and inched her bottom off, throwing the small piece of fabric to the ground. Matt was laying on the bed next to us. He leaned over and pulled up Jane’s top and sucked on her nipples. I ran my fingers over Jane’s slit. She was soaked. I had an overwhelming need to taste her. I buried my head between her legs.

Jane gasped and I growled. I ran my tongue up and down her wet slit until I hit her clit and I sucked hard. Her pussy tasted so good. I couldn’t get enough of it. I wanted to make her come so that I could be full of her. I inserted a finger into her pussy and she clamped down on my finger. Her moans increasing as I continued devouring her. I could tell that she was getting close when she pushed my head against her. I greedily ate until I felt the weight on the bed shift.

My bottoms were being guided off of me and I didn’t really pay attention until I felt his tongue go in and out of my pussy. I stopped sucking on Jane and let out a loud moan.

Jane sat up. “I want to know what I taste like on you.” She ran her tongue on my face until we were kissing. I felt Matt’s fingers go into me. He moved two fingers in and out of me. My orgasm was building. Between Jane’s mouth and his fingers, it wouldn’t be long. The sensations were overwhelming.

“Come now,” Matt demanded and that’s exactly what my body did. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me.

I rolled over and sat up. Jane and I both looked at Matt as he took off his shorts. The tattoo that was under his waistband was a set of lips. My mouth dropped open as I saw the massive cock that my best friend was going to have the joy of having inside her. He had to be at least seven inches, maybe more. It was definitely the biggest dick I had ever seen. I wanted to try it first.

“I want you in my mouth,” I said.

“Hang your head over the side of the bed,” Matt once again commanded. “I’m going to fuck that face while Jane eats your aching pussy.”

“So bossy,” I said.

“If you have a problem with that, I’m going to have to spank you.”

He was a dominant. Fuck. This afternoon just got better. His eyes didn’t waver.

“Open your mouth and spread your legs. Jane looks hungry. Are you hungry, Jane?”

I looked at Jane as I moved to lay on the bed with my head at the edge. She had been playing with herself as she watched Matt.

“I’m so hungry,” she responded as she put a finger in me.

“Good girl,” Matt said in a hushed voice. He walked over to me and looked down. I eyed every inch of him as he took his hands and placed them on either side of my head and said, “Open up, Eleanor. You’re taking this whole dick in your mouth and you will not come again until I ask. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I opened my mouth and prepared myself. Jane mouth hit my already wet pussy.

Matt fucked my face. Slow at first. I was able to take about half of him without much trouble. Jane’s tongue moved expertly in and out of me. She found my clit and alternated sucking and licking. I moaned on Matt’s dick and he increased his pace. I ran my tongue on the bumps along the bottom of his cock. He reached down and played with my nipples; pinching them and rubbing them. I was going to come. He knew it.

“Come now,” he growled and pinched my nipple hard.

I detonated on Jane’s face. My walls gripping her two fingers as she rubbed my g-spot. My body trembled as the orgasm ripped through me.

Matt pulled his cock out of my mouth and walked over to his shorts. He grabbed a condom out of his shorts’ pocket. He walked around the bed over to Jane, who was still licking my throbbing pussy. He grabbed her ankles and flipped her over to her back, her giant tits on full display. She was damn sexy and so was Matt. I had just come twice, something that I only heard could happen.

“I’m going to fuck this pussy hard.” He took his fingers and placed them inside of Jane. “You’re so ready for this dick, baby.” After quickly covering himself, he teased the front of her opening. “Eleanor, lay next to Jane and spread your legs.”

I moved just like he told me to. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to fuck you both.”

“How?” Eleanor asked.

 Matt rammed his cock into her as he put three fingers inside of me.

“Fuck!” I yelled. Jane was writhing on the bed, moaning.

“Matt! Holy Fuck!” Jane yelled out.

I looked up at him, and he had full joy in the moment. I reached up to touch him, but I couldn’t think. He kept pounding. Our moans filling the room. He pulled his dick out and his hand out and slapped both of our pussies. I squirted all over myself. He then rammed back into her. I rolled over and rubbed her clit and sucked on her nipples as he pounded. Jane’s whole body tensed as she screamed out his name. My hand was soaked with Jane’s release.

“Lay back down. I want to coat both of you with my come.”

I did as he asked. He pulled out of Jane and jerked his dick, spraying his release all over the two of us.

“That’s a beautiful sight.”

The “Would I f**k him” scale

I have often wondered if men and women can be friends without crossing the line. I wondered if it was even possible for other people and not just me. There are a ton of books and articles on the subject. Here’s what I figured out.

I took to Twitter yesterday and put out a poll with three options and after 826 votes, 18 retweets, and 114 comments, here are the results:

  1. Yes  78.1%
  2. No 8%
  3. It depends  13.9%

The majority felt the same that I did, that it is possible for men and women to be friends. I agree with the findings, even the “it depends” results, but the no reasons made sense to me and I could also see that sometimes it isn’t possible.

When I was in high school, I was on a drumline with seventeen guys. I was one of two girls. I didn’t see them as potential boyfriends, they were my teammates. We made jokes. Talked about all kinds of things. In college, it was more of the same. I was one of the guys. I always have been, despite the fact that I am probably one of the biggest girlie girls in my circle. It is true to this day.

I have always been more comfortable with men. I find them easier to talk to about most things and I don’t feel pressure to be “on”. No need to impress or be anything more than me. There’s no competition. No judgement.

After I met my husband, I was a bit of a hypocrite. I expected him to be ok with my male friends, but I was very jealous of his female friends. See, he’s the opposite of me. He gets along better with women. Because of my early on jealousy, which wasn’t due to anything more than my own dumb ass insecurities, he now feels he can’t have any female friends. Knowing that I caused this for him, throws me into a shame storm.

I was insecure in my body, which I have talked about in an earlier post. I was worried that I wasn’t fun enough, or maybe I was too fun. My husband, to me, has always been the better half. I thought when other women got close to him, it was because he wanted to be with them not me. After lots of personal work, I know that’s not the case. Now that I am more secure in myself, it doesn’t bother me if he has female friends. I recognize the issue was me, not him. I trust him and if he needs to travel with a woman from work for work, it’s ok.

My husband and I have had many talks about this. And while I agree that this isn’t as simple as saying yes or no, I do believe that it is possible. I have guy friends and I have no desire to take it beyond that. There is a whole gray area with male and females being friends. It’s not a simple issue because it has to do with emotions. Emotions are complicated and irrational. They are never really logical.  

The biggest common thread that I found when asking my tweeps about this was boundaries. If you are going to be friends with folks of the opposite sex, you have to set a clear boundary. Just friends. That’s the expectation. No more. And I think that can work. If the boundary isn’t respected or observed, then the friendship can’t continue. There was one time, early in my manuscript process where I was OBSESSED with word count. One of my male friends was cheering me on every time I gave a word count update. I broke 40,000 words and I was so excited that I sent a screenshot of the word count on the bottom of the page. The thing that I didn’t notice was the words on the page. The first kiss between my hero and heroine right above the word count. My friend didn’t speak to me for nearly a week. No words of encouragement, nothing. When he finally did respond, he said that he was very upset by what I had sent him due to its graphic nature. I scrambled, panicked, and then I cried my eyes out. I apologized and let him know that I didn’t even realize what was on the page, that I never saw him in that way. He accepted my apology, and we moved on. It was awkward for a hot minute, but once we had the conversation about it, everything was fine. We had to set the boundary, one that I thought was there.

My husband and I still struggle with this. My editor is man and we meet for coffee frequently.  We talk real estate, books, writing. We text about these things, too. My husband has referred to our coffee meetings as dates. To me, it’s not a date any more than when I meet my girlfriends for lunch or when I text them about what I’m cooking for dinner. To me, a friend is a friend regardless of gender. This is something we still work on.

I brought the question up to my brother. His response was “abso-fucking-lutely not.” He said that it’s not possible or appropriate. Couples are a maybe, as long no one gets too chummy. He said that all men have a “would I fuck her” scale. And I guess on a primal level, that makes sense. It goes to a conversation I had with one of my best girl friends on the topic. She recently spent some time with the men in her neighborhood around the firepit, drinking bourbon and smoking cigars. She went to get her husband to come outside, he wanted to go to bed but said she should go back out. They simply had a conversation. But the next morning, she felt guilty for being the only woman with a bunch of men. At the root of that issue, I think it’s a lack of trust. Not in your spouse, but in yourself.

I am not ever going to get to an answer to this question in this blog post. I was hoping to at least have a better understanding of the male-female friendships. But I am more conflicted than ever. What about my gay friends? What about my bi-sexual friends? I do think it comes down to the individuals involved. All of the players. I will say that any relationship needs to have open communication and honesty. You also have to have respect. Respect for your partner and for your friends and all feelings involved.  

I’ll keep digging and see what else I can find out.

Until next time,


The Friend Zone...Can Men and Women Be Just Friends?- Charley's ...

In the mood to tease…

I’m in the mood to tease, y’all. I’ve been on the fence about sharing this for a while. This is the first chapter of my manuscript. The world of Henry and Adaline has been my near obsession for close to two years. And while I am going to publishing soon, I want to offer a tease of what’s to come.

I hope you enjoy the first chapter of my novel. It’s the first in a trilogy. Working Title is Henry’s Treasure.

116,117 Torso Body Man Male Wall Murals - Canvas Prints - Stickers ...

It’s pitch black outside and I can’t sleep. Our plane was somewhere over the Atlantic. I made it through the shooting at Henry’s completely unscathed. Physically, I’m ok. Emotionally, I’m nowhere close. I had so many opportunities to walk away, but I couldn’t walk away from Henry. Cooper had gone too far. I had no idea when I got involved with Henry that everything would get so turned around. No matter how many times I have gone through the events of the past couple of months, there was no things could’ve turned out any differently.

            The day that Henry came into my life started on a typical day. I had gone for a longer run than usual since it was the first cool morning of the fall. I was late for work and rushed to get ready. I threw my hair in a bun, slapped on some mascara and lip gloss. I picked up my favorite dark washed jeans off the floor and took a whiff. Still good. At least one more wear, I thought. I dressed them up with a silky blouse, a cardigan, and flats. It was going to be a busy day. Comfort was essential.

            Christina let out a deep, disapproving sigh when I walked into the kitchen. From the breakfast bar, she dipped her toast into her coffee and pleaded, “Can’t you at least try and look cute?”

            She always looked stellar, even sitting on the barstool in her baggy terry cloth robe; her blonde hair in a loose ponytail. I poured coffee into my travel mug, “Christina, cute isn’t practical and besides, it’s a business not a bar.”

            “A bun and quick makeup usually means you’re hungover,” Christina rolled her eyes. “Too much whiskey last night?”

            “No. I ran too long this morning and I don’t want to be late. We have a truck coming in and I need to make sure the guys put things away properly.”

            “I guess,” she snickered.

            “Thanks for your concern.” I gave her a hug and she squeezed extra hard. “Bye, Christina. Have fun with all of your boys today!”

            Christina Carmichael was my very best friend since childhood. She landed a position as an athletic trainer at our Alma Mater with the football team athletic trainers. They hired her on right after graduation. She could eat, sleep, and breathe football. Personally, I could care less about it.

            I was the manager of a small bookstore called The Book Depot. Our store was located in the downtown part of Tuscaloosa. We catered to all different ages throughout the day: the older folks from the nearby retirement home, to the toddlers and stay at home moms, and college students.

            Since we offered free wi-fi and a discount on items at our in-house coffee shop called The Hub, with a valid student ID, the store was packed with college students until we closed. I had an office, but I primarily liked to work from the information desk in the middle of the store. It gave me a chance to hear the student conversations and hear about the latest happenings on the Alabama campus. I was also more accessible our employees. I liked to be readily available to help, whereas the  store owner, Tom Bennett, liked to stay behind the scenes.

            A delivery truck backed up to The Book Depot’s loading dock as I pulled in.

            “Hey, Addie,” Tom’s gruff voice greeted me.

            “Good morning, Tom! How are you today?”

            “Can’t complain.” Thanks to his military background he never complained. Ever. I’m grateful he kept me around.

            “I see you wore your sneakers, old man. Are we running hard today? I think your walker’s in my office.” I winked.

            The wrinkles around his eyes became more pronounced as he tried to stifle a laugh. “Watch the old jokes, kid. I can still run circles around you.”
            “Oh, I’m sure you can. I’m headed to the back office. Do you need anything?”

            “No, I’m good. How’s the renovation plan coming?”

            “Good. I need to go and crunch numbers. I should have a plan ready to discuss by the end of the week.”

            “I have no doubt you’ll knock it out of the park.”

            Tom hired me when I was seventeen and in highschool. After I graduated, he bumped me up to manager. He and his wife, Isabel, had become like parents to me. Tom had the dad look down, from his all white sneakers to his high waisted pants. His plan was to have me take over the store when he retired.

            About a month ago, Tom asked me to look into some ideas to bring in more business. I thought we could expand the coffee bar. We could add an area for live music or maybe an open mic night. Nothing big, but something to keep people coming in, especially in the evening hours. We needed something to attract customers when there was a break in college classes when kids went home. I thought this was a good way to stay relevant. I needed to figure out how to make the renovation happen in the most cost-effective way. The majority of my days were filled with all of the mundane tasks of running a store; answering emails, planning sales, placing orders, maintaining inventory. Made the days go pretty quickly. Now, I was consumed with this renovation.

The afternoon slump was beginning to take over as I yawned for the second time. I walked over to The Hub. I needed some caffeine to make it through the rest of the afternoon. I didn’t get to leave until six. 

            As I ordered my double espresso, I saw a man that I hadn’t seen before. He was bent over looking at the display of rare books that we have under glass. He was chatting with Matt, one of my employees. His hands were behind his back as he leaned down to examine the titles. He wore a blue plaid button down shirt and dark washed jeans that fit just right on his muscular physique; a weathered leather satchel was behind him. This man had dusty brown hair that was so thick and luscious that I had to fight the overwhelming urge to walk over and run my fingers through it. He looked too old to be an undergrad. I questioned if he was a grad student or a professor. He definitely wasn’t from here.

            He stood up and caught me staring. His eyebrow went up as a smirk softened his chiseled jaw. My breath hitched as I bit my bottom lip in a feeble attempt to stifle a goofy grin from escaping. I turned to wait for my coffee. Something about him rattled me in a good way.

            “Amy, who is that guy? Have you seen him in here before?” I asked my overly friendly barista.

            She looked up as she brewed the coffee.

            “Oh, that’s Professor Walton. He’s new this semester. I’m in his class.”

            “Oh,” I tried to be as nonchalant as possible. I was more interested in this man than I wanted to let on.

            “His class is pretty hard. He really makes you think.”

            “That’s cool. What class is it?”

            “American History, but I think he teaches a few others. All the girls can’t get enough of him. Here’s your coffee, Adaline.” She passed over the espresso with one hand and wiped the counter with the other.

            “Thanks.” I grabbed my cup and walked away, my mind drifting on thoughts of the professor and what his story could possibly be. I was getting lost in my thoughts when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

            Finished early! Text Jake! Usual place- usual table.

            Christina had the best timing. I needed to send Jake, my boyfriend, a text to remind him that we would be meeting Christina for drinks at our go to place.

            I responded back, 6:30, I’ll be there. I’ll let Jake know.

            I hesitated for a moment to send Jake a message. My life had become so predictable, and he was a big part of that. Something needed to change, but I wasn’t sure what it was.

            After work, I went straight to the Juice Box; this little hole in the wall bar with a microbrewery. The music was so loud I could feel the bass pounding from the parking lot. The place was rough around the edges, but that’s its charm. By 7:00 any night of the week it’s so jam packed with people that you can forget about getting a table. Luckily, we are there so often that we practically had a table permanently reserved for us.

            I found Christina waiting with two small beers. I downed one, then I motioned to the waitress, circled my finger over the spent beer and held my hand taller so she would bring me the bigger size.

            “Girl!” A look of awe washed over her face, “Did you have a bad day?”

            “No, I didn’t but it was just such a boring, normal day.” I grabbed some of the peanuts from the bowl on the table and started to shell them. “Don’t you want more out of life than this?”

            “That’s a really broad question. Can you be more specific?”

            “I get tired of the same thing every day. Nothing new ever happens here.” My fingers ran up and down the glass, wiping the dewy sweat away.

            “Like what? You have Jake and a great job. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

            “Jake is good, and work is going well, too. I don’t know. It’s not enough. I don’t feel satisfied. This can’t be all there is.” I drummed my hands on the table.

            “Is it Jake? Are you bored with him? You could try spicing things up. A little variety can keep things interesting.”

            “Christina.” I glared.

            “What?” She shrugged her shoulders.

            “Not that kind of bored. He doesn’t really challenge me and has no drive to do anything outside of working and watching football. He wants me to be a stay at home mom and do all the stuff that goes with it. That’s not enough for me.”

            “Maybe you should consider just having fun with guys. I know you aren’t as adventurous as me, but it’s fun not to have any strings attached.” She tossed her long blonde waves over her shoulder.

            “You mean I’m not as much of a slut as you are?” I chuckled.

            “I’m not a slut, I’m just not as repressed as you are.” Christina took a swig of beer and gave me a wink. “Don’t make any rash decisions now. Think about it. Jake just walked in.”

            “Ok and thanks for the heads up.”

I took a long drink of my beer and looked over to the door and there he was as I put my beer down. I smiled with the thought of the first time I met him.

Jake Sullivan was your typical cowboy. I met him here about a year ago. He liked to dance and

there was almost nothing sexier than a cowboy, except for maybe a cowboy that can dance. Christina and I were sitting at the bar taking a break in between songs. I tried to hop on a barstool, and I missed. Fully expecting the thud of the cold, sticky floor, a strong arm met my waist instead.

            I will never forget the sexiness of the southern drawl as he said, “I gotcha, darlin’.”

            It was literally the lamest thing I had ever heard, and his accent made it worse.

            “Thank you,” I gasped as I looked up. I grabbed his arm and felt a flush that I knew wasn’t from the beer as he helped me stand back up.

            He was easily 6’4” and not a trace of fat on his body.

            “Can I buy you a drink?” I asked. “You did save my life.”

            “Sure, why not.”

            I motioned for the waitress to come with another round. We talked and the more I listened the more I realized we had absolutely nothing in common, but damn he looked good. He was a delivery driver. He was at the bar with his friends for a Bachelor Party. Maybe it was the beer, but I grabbed his shirt and pulled his face towards mine and kissed him.

            When his lips met mine, I nervous rush of excitement flooded my core. My skin tingled as he held me by the waist with one hand and my face with the other. The way he held me allowed me to melt in his arms and get carried away in the moment. When his lips slowly parted from mine, I came back to reality. We have been together ever since.  

Tonight, he had on a green button-down shirt that hugged his muscular arms, and jeans that accentuated his rock-hard ass and legs. A ball cap, which rested on top of his dirty brown hair, gave him a hint of boyish charm. And those sweet brown eyes. He caught us looking at him as he shook hands with some of the guys playing pool.

            “Hey ladies,” he said. He motioned to the waitress to bring another round for us and he kissed my cheek.

            “How’s it hanging tonight Jake? A little to the left?” Christina elbowed him playfully.

            “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He chuckled back.

            I attempted to hide my eyes rolling.

            “Hey Jake.”

            “Hey darlin’. You look so beautiful tonight.” He put his beer on his lips and took a long drink.

            Ugh. I melted every time he called me that.

            “Thanks. How was your day?”

            “Better now that I’m here with you. My manager changed up my route and the guys didn’t load my truck right. I was so pissed off. They threw all the boxes on there and I had to unload and reload.”
            “I’m sorry. That sucks.”

            “It’s all good. How was your day?”
            “The renovation plan is a lot harder than I thought it would be.” I didn’t feel like an in-depth conversation with him tonight.         

            “You know I can help make a long day better.”

            I took a drink. “Wanna dance cowboy?”

            “Yes, ma’am.” He extended his hand, took the beer out of mine, placed it on the table.

            “What’s bugging you lady? I hate seeing you down.” Jake turned on the southern charm to try and coax me into opening up as he took my hand and led me out onto the dance floor.

            “Nothing a few more beers and dancing wouldn’t fix,” I sassed back. “You going to dance with me or what?”

            “Of course. I hope you remember you can talk to me about anything.”

            “I don’t want to talk. I just want to dance.”

            We went out to the floor. The music was too loud too allow for any conversation, which was perfect. He spun me around for what seemed like hours. We didn’t even stop dancing to get more beer. During the last slow dance, he pulled me close and I whispered into his ear “Want to get out of here?”

            “You know it.”

            I shot Christina a glance letting her know Jake and I were heading out. She winked and waved back.

            As usual, we took our separate cars to my place. Riding together made things too familiar, too close, too much like a real relationship. When we pulled into the parking lot of my condo, we maintained our composure until we got inside. I unlocked the door and we walked in. Once I got the door closed, he pinned me against the wall, his mouth moving in a frenzy all over my neck. His brute strength was always such a turn on. My mouth met his, stirring that warm familiar wetness between my thighs. Jake’s strength made my athletic 172-pound frame seem like a paperweight as he picked me up.

            His arms enveloped my waist and my thighs wrapped around his. We kissed passionately as he carried me over to the kitchen counter pushing my thighs apart with his torso. I sat lusting on the counter, staring at him with longing as he started to pull off my cardigan.

            “You look like a hot school teacher,” he panted and continued to move his lips slowly up my neck, his mouth taking slow nibbles as he worked his way from one side to the other.

            “Stop talking and fuck me,” I breathed out. “Now.” I didn’t want to hear his cheesy ass lines.

            His hands skillfully unbuttoned my shirt as he threw it to the ground. I reached down between my legs and undid his belt buckle and unzipped his pants. I slid off of the counter and as I made my way down, I took his pants with me. I admired the view of his naked body as I stared up at him. He’s an Adonis, chiseled perfection. Not one ounce of fat, all muscle. I wanted to stare at him for as long as possible. I took a moment to stare at his long shaft and then I put my mouth on him. He let out a loud groan as I guided his length into my mouth with my hand over and over again. Realizing how much I was enjoying his saltiness in my mouth, I reached down and touched myself. My climax was close and I could tell that Jake was really getting into it too when he picked me up and put me back on the counter. He grabbed a condom out of the pocket of his jeans that were on the floor and put it on. Then he picked me back up and dropped me onto his dick.

            “Grab tight and hold on girl.”

            I nodded. Jake was relentless. His massive arms lifted me up and lowered me down like a rag doll.

            “Don’t stop looking at me!” He always made the same demand when he was close to climaxing. The intimacy of the eye contact was a bit much for me, but the sex was so hot that I didn’t mind going with it.

            “Ok,” I let out a big heavy sigh as he pulled me down hard onto him for the last time.

            He propped the edge of my ass on the counter of the kitchen and I rested my head on his chest. His heartbeat was pounding.

            He was breathless but he pecked the top of my head and said, “Girl, I can’t help myself with you. Did you come?”

            I sighed, “Uh-huh.” I lied. I wasn’t feeling up for another round.  

            “What are you thinking about?”

            I didn’t want to tell him the truth of what I was going through my mind. I looked up at him, grinned and said, “How good a hot shower would feel. Could you carry me?”

            “Whatever you want, princess.” His lips met my forehead tenderly and pushed me all the way up onto the counter. He turned and walked to the bathroom. I heard him start the water. Sitting there in the counter, I realized it wasn’t working between Jake and me. I needed someone to be more attentive, more into making sure we were both satisfied. This wasn’t the first time he was the only one to have a release. He walked back into the room and leaned against the door frame.

            “Well, are you coming?”

            “You were supposed to carry me,” I said and gave a smirk.

            “Oh, that’s right.”  Jake’s arms are so strong. He came over to the counter, picked me up and threw me over his shoulder and spanked my ass. I couldn’t help but laugh. He put me down into the shower stall. The near-scalding water cascaded over us. Jake took my arms and wrapped them around his neck and he kissed me. His fingers gently traced the contour of my face as our tongues went back and forth between our mouths. He grabbed my chin and looked into my eyes.

            “Adaline, you’re so pretty.”

            “Thanks,” I found it hard to keep eye contact with Jake. It was getting harder to deny that he didn’t make me happy. Something was missing. Even though the sexual chemistry was amazing, there was no spark.

            “What’s wrong?”

            “Nothing, Jake. I’m ok.” I forced a smile. “My legs are a little wobbly still.”

            “Let’s clean up,” Jake whispered in my ear as he washed my body and my hair.  

            We got out of the shower and Jake wanted to cuddle. I was too tired to care, so we did. It really was nice to curl up with this gentle and sexy man and then fall asleep. I didn’t like to sleep alone.

            “Imagine doing this every night for the rest of our lives,” he said in a quiet breath as I nuzzled into the space under his arm and put my head on his chest.

            “Don’t do that, Jake. Can’t you be happy with the way things are?”

            “I want to marry you, Adaline,” he said as he twirled strands of my hair around his fingers.

            “I’m not ready to talk about that tonight,” I pleaded. Or any night, I thought. 

            “Promise me you’ll think about it, sweetheart.”

            “Good night, Jake.” I closed my eyes and fell right to sleep.

24 Hours

Vikki Ellen Williams. She’s an independent force of nature. She’s successful in her career. She’s got it all together. Fiery and confident, but something is missing. Vikki goes out to the usual places and can’t seem to find the guy for her. One night out with her old college friends changes everything. They say you find what you need when you least expect it.



24 Hours

By: Eloisa Hilton

Piper had gone out of her way to get us all together to go to Nashville for a girls’ night. We hadn’t been able to get everyone together since Piper’s baby was born three years ago. Piper, Skye, and Livvie had met their husbands in college. I’m the odd one out, no kids, no husband, no boyfriend. She got a room for us at the Omni so we’d be central to all the action on Broadway and wouldn’t have to deal with a cab or an Uber. She was so excited to escape, that I couldn’t tell her no. And besides it would be nice to get out with the girls in our favorite town.

            But the thing was, I didn’t want to go out. I had no desire to get all dressed up, put makeup on, hair done just to go out and get hit on by guys with no substance. Or worse, guys that only want to get their dick wet. This wasn’t how I thought things were going to turn out in my life. I’m successful in my career I have my own place and I’ve started a good retirement account. I had hoped to be with the right guy by now. Not necessarily married, but at least a steady boyfriend. I wasn’t going to meet him at the places I went to after work.

            Tonight was different. It wouldn’t be about meeting anyone. It would just be about having fun with my girls.

            We were dressed to kill. That was something we had been doing well since college. For me that meant a denim skirt, short cowboy boots, and a black slinky off the shoulder top. My long brown hair curled and makeup that didn’t cover me up, just highlighted what was already there. 

            We walked out of the hotel room and took the elevator downstairs, our shoes clacking as we strutted through the lobby.

“We need a picture. We look too good not to get one,” Piper said.

“Alright,” Livvie pulled out her phone and extended her arm as far as she could reach.

            After she snapped a few, an elderly couple walking by offered to take our picture. We walked over to the wall and stood there, shoulder to shoulder with one hand on our hips, just like when we were in college. It’s funny how some things don’t change.  

            “Where are we going first?” Livvie asked.

            “I figured we could go to Jason Aldean’s for dinner, then whatever,” Piper answered.

            “Works for me. You know how much I love their mac and cheese,” I said.

            It was a long wait for a table, so we went to the bar on the third floor. We each got our long neck and headed out to the deck. There was a group of men in matching ball caps laughing and throwing back shots. That’s when I noticed him. He was tall not super muscular, but he looked good in his jeans and shirt. He had a pointy jaw that was covered with a delicious looking beard. He was wearing the same red ball cap as the rest of the guys he was with. He was staring at me. His eyebrow raised, smirk on his face, as he brought his glass to his lips. He looked like a good kind of trouble. I smiled. And even though I wanted to talk to him, I turned back to the girls. Tonight was about us.

            A few minutes later, the group of red hats walked past us. He brushed past me. I was overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne as he put his hand on my back for a brief moment.

            Skye said, “We should go to Tootsies.”

            “Sure. After we eat,” Piper chuckled. She raised her beer, “to the best girlfriends I could ask for.”

            “To us,” we said as we clinked longnecks.

            After dinner, we walked down the street to Tootsies. We made our way through the heavy crowd to the third-floor bar. There were so many people. I don’t remember it ever being that crowded before. We ordered a round of whiskey shots and beer. We did the shot, then went out to the balcony. And there they were, the red ball cap brigade. He was leaned up against the table surrounded by his friends. Part of me wondered if they followed us. The other part of me wondered if he heard us talk about coming here.

            “Weren’t those guys at the restaurant?” Skye asked.

            “Yeah. I wonder what their hats say,” I said. I looked at the group of men. His eyes were deadlocked on mine, same smirk.

            I picked my beer off the table and walked over to the group of red hats. It was probably the whiskey, but I felt bold. I grabbed the bill of the hat and pulled at it gently.

            “What does your hat say?” I read the text on the hat. “I’m the alibi.” That’s a weird thing to have on a hat, I thought. I turned to the next man and looked at Skye, who read his hat.

            “I’ve got bail money.” She laughed.

            “Oh, I’m Joe, and our friend Mark over there is getting married.” He pointed at the man in their group with the black hat. “We all flew in to show him a good time.”

            “Cool,” Piper said. “We should have had matching shirts.” Piper said.

            “Are you a bachelorette party?” Mark asked.

            “No, just a girls’ night,” I said shifting my gaze to the icy blue eyes staring at me. I was desperate to speak to him. “And what does yours say?”

            He tilted his head down as I walked over to him. My heart drummed in my chest as I got close to him. I reached up and grabbed the bill of his hat. I bit my lip as I pulled it down to read.

            “I’m the wing man,” I could barely get the words out he lifted his head up and his eyes looked at into mine. I didn’t blink.

            The corner of his lip curled up as he said, “I’m the best man.”

            After an answer like that, I should’ve turned and walked away. But I couldn’t. His voice wasn’t what I expected it. The sound of his deep voice drew me in. I could see that he was trouble, and I was hooked.

            “Is that so?” I couldn’t help but study his face. I enjoyed everything about it. His forehead wrinkled as he raised his eyebrow.

            “Yeah. We’ve been best friends since college.” He brought his drinks to his perfect lips. His eyes went up and down my body as he took a drink, finally settling back on my face. “Your eyes are amazing. I’m mesmerized by them.”

            I looked down, “Thanks,” I chuckled. “I’ve got a feeling you’ve used that line before.”

            “I’m not full of shit. I’ve never seen eyes like yours. You’re stunning.”

            I couldn’t help but blink, but I didn’t once look away. He was serious. I needed to play this off. I couldn’t get roped in. “I think you may have had one too many drinks.”

            He leaned back, “Not even close. I know what I like, and I love what I see.”

            I felt heat fill my cheeks. I instinctively brought my beer to my lips, tipped the beer up, and took the last sip out of it. His steel blue eyes studied me as if he knew I was insanely nervous.

            “It appears your beer is empty. Let me get you another one? I’m Hugh.”

            I swallowed hard, “I’m Vikki Ellen Williams.”

            “Nice to meet you, Vikki,” he extended his hand and took my beer bottle. “I’ll be right back,” He said in a low voice as he leaned into my ear. Desire shot straight to my core.

            He came back with my beer and a cocktail.

            “You don’t strike me as a mixed drink guy,” I took the beer from his hand.

            “I’m not. It’s a whiskey neat.”

            “Oh, I usually drink that, too. But when I’m out with the girls, beer is easier.”

            A dimple appeared above his salty grey beard.

“So, Hugh, what do you do?”

            He said he was a project manager, whatever that was. He did it without going to school. I told him I worked in public relations. His eyes sharpened.

            “I bet you have a fancy degree,” he said.

            “I wouldn’t call it fancy. How’d you get to be a project manager if you don’t have a degree?”

            “Like I said princess, I’m the best man. I work hard and play harder. I’m the best at what I do.”

            He spoke with a hint of arrogance. I brought my beer to my lips as I looked him up and down. We kept talking.

            I looked around from time to time checking for my girls. They were talking with the rest of the bachelor party. Our two groups had assimilated. I felt a touch of guilt that I wasn’t talking to the girls, but Hugh captivated me. I had to find out if the connection was real or bullshit in my head.

            “Let’s go for a walk. I can barely hear you in here.”

            I paused and looked over at Piper. “I don’t want to leave the girls.”

            “They’ll be alright. They’re good guys. They’ll keep an eye on them.”

            I bit my bottom lip and looked over to Piper. I told her I was leaving with Hugh. She shot a look over to him, eyebrow cocked.

            “Just like college. You’re leaving with the hottest guy here,” she said.

            “Not exactly like college. Y’all are married.”

            “Fair. You sure you want to go with him?” She looked back over at Hugh, giving him another once over.

            “Yeah girl. It’s okay.”

            “Call if you change your mind.”

            I nodded at her and turned back to find him with a full-on smile. He tilted his head toward the door, extending his hand. I walked to him and my fingers laced with his. My breath caught as he pulled me close to him.

“Follow me,” he said.

He tucked his hand behind his back, gripping my hand firmly. He guided me through the crowded bar, down the three flights of stairs, and out the door. Once we got outside, he offered his arm, and I gripped his bicep. He put his hand on mine and we walked.

            “Where do you want to go?” I asked.

            “We’ll go wherever you want, princess.”

            “I’m a little hungry.”

            “Well, there’s a pizza place. You good with pizza?” He rubbed my hand as I gripped a little tighter.

            “That actually sounds good.”

            “Then let’s go.”

            We went into the pizza place and had a beer while we waited for our food. Hugh put his arms on the table as he rested his chin on his hand.

            “What do you do Vikki, besides work?
            “Umm, lots of stuff,” I responded. “Like what? Hobbies?”
            “Yeah, I want to know about you.”

            I answered and found that we both like to run. I had a flash of us running in the morning to start the day. Ugh. Reign it in, Vikki, I thought.

            The server brought out our pizza. Hugh served me a slice of pepperoni and then put a slice on his plate.

            “You didn’t have to do that,” I said.

            “I’m at your service, princess,” he grinned.

            We kept talking as we ate. And the more words were exchanged, the more I found we had in common.

            “Where are you from?” Hugh asked.

            “Huntsville, that’s about two hours south of here. You?”

            “Chicago. I flew down today. The rest of the guys got here yesterday.”

            Ugh. Of course. I felt so disappointed that he wasn’t local. Nashville was a good drive, but not impossible. Chicago was a whole other story. I looked down at the pizza and picked off a slice of pepperoni and put it in my mouth.

            “What’s wrong, Vikki?”

            “Nothing. It’s getting late.” I didn’t want to let on how disappointed I was that this unexpected connection was going to go nowhere.

            “Let me get the check and we can go. I’ll walk you back to your hotel.”

            “You don’t have to do that.”

            “I really do. See, I need it to make sure you get back safely. Especially since I took you away from your friends. Where are you staying?”

            I looked up at him, “At the Omni up the street.” Instantly I was overwhelmed. Every nerve in my body was firing at the same time.  

            As we walked out of the restaurant, he guided me out with his hand on the small of my back. I tensed up as his fingers brushed the top of my ass. I took his arm as he came to my side. We turned the corner to make our way back to my hotel.

            “Are you sure you’re alright? You got quiet after I told you where I was from.”

            “It’s nothing.”

            We stopped walking. He turned and faced me. He leaned in and ran his finger along my cheek before they settled and caressed my jaw. His other hand was on the small of my back, pulling me to him. My skin was on fire and my heart pounded in my chest as I waited to see where his hand would go next. His eyes were focused on my mouth, as he tucked my hair behind my ear. His lips landed on my open mouth. His tongue entered my parted lips, coaxing mine to meet his. As my body surrendered to him, he moved his hand from the small of back to my cheek cupping my face tenderly.

            My body roared to life. Tingling, when he pulled back. He released my face and his blue eyes looked directly into mine.

            “I was right.” He seemed nervous. “I had it to see if you felt it too.”

            I closed my eyes and bit my lip. “Uh-huh.” I nodded as the barely audible sound came out of me. “But I’m not a one and done kind of girl, and that’s exactly what this will be.” I looked into his eyes attempting to show resistance to what I knew what was inevitable.

            “I know you aren’t. I am here for two days. Stay with me.” 

            I wanted to do just that. If that kiss was any indication, sex with him would be mind- blowing. Earth shattering. But then what? I needed more than one kiss. More than one night. He would be my undoing, and I knew it in the pit of my stomach.

            “Vikki, hear me out. That kiss was too powerful not to act on it. I think we can be amazing together. Please, give me twenty-four hours.”

            I looked into his eyes, and my mind said no. Everything else in my knew that I had to say yes. There was no way I could say no. “Twenty-four hours? What about the Bachelor party?”

            “They’ll survive. We’ve always had a deal when a woman is involved.”

            “And what deal is that?” I always thought guys didn’t let women come between them.

            “Stay out of the way when one of us meets the right woman.”

            I took a deep breath. The right woman? What did he mean? “Let me send Piper a text. I guess I can get my things tomorrow.”

            “I’ll send for them. We aren’t leaving my room for anything.”

            “You got your own room?”

            “Yeah. It was easier since I came in after everyone else.” He turned and gave me his arm. “Shall we?”

            He walked us to the Hilton which was the hotel right across from the Omni. He held my hand as we walked down the never-ending hallway to his room. My heart drummed in my chest as he let go of my hand to get his room key. My mouth went dry.

            He opened the door and for a moment I hesitated. I considered turning back. Sensing my pause, he cupped my face and his lips crashed into mine. Our tongues dancing as I gripped tightly to his arms. He walked me backward through the door. I threw his hat off of his head. My fingers ran rampant through his thick bushy hair, pulling and tugging to try and satisfy this hunger for him. Both of his hands ran down to my ass, each cheek gripped firmly by his large hands. He stopped abruptly.

            “I don’t want to rush with you, but I have to have you as much as I can.”

            He took off my shirt, my breathing heavy. Then he expertly reached behind my back and unclasped my bra. A sigh escaped my mouth. Hugh threw my lacy black bra to the floor. “Your tits are perfect.” He kissed each one, sucking each nipple to rigid hardness. He kneeled down in front of me. He took my boots off. Then he slowly took my skirt off as I used his shoulders to balance myself. He then hooked his thumbs into my panties at the hips and pulled them down.

            His lips brushed up my legs slowly as his head made his way back up to the tops of my thighs. He paused and looked up at me. A wicked grin came over his face.

            “Princess, you shave everything.”

            I bit my lip as my skin ached with anticipation. He ran his fingers up my calves to my thighs until he was at my ass. He leaned forward and kissed my bare pussy. He ran his tongue across me, gently sucking on my clit. I threw my hands on his head pushing him to suck harder. He growled, and then flicked his tongue against my pearl. His tongue went faster. And faster, and even faster until I finally exploded. Wetness dripping down my inner thighs.

            “Fuck,” I moaned.

            “Oh, this is going to be fun.” Hugh stood up and scooped me up into his arms. We walked over to the bed where he laid me down.

            “Vikki, look at me.”

            I did as ask he asked. I watched him slowly unbutton and remove his shirt. A small tattoo was on his chest. It was a clock and above it the words “I am the master of my fate” was written over it. He slowly undid his belt. Then his zipper. And inched his pants down painfully slow before standing straight up. He was impressive and he knew it. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted any other man. He was fit and firm. His cock was hard and long. He tore open the condom wrapper and covered his length.

            “Vikki, are you ready?”

            “Yes,” I panted as I nodded. He was big. I wasn’t sure I could take all of him, but I desperately wanted to try.

            He spread my legs and kneeled in front of me. “Let’s see how ready you are.” He slid one finger in. “Mmm, you feel amazing.” He stuck another finger in and began to move in and out slowly as his thumb rubbed my clit.

            “Hugh,” I moaned.

            He smiled and took his fingers out. He stroked himself for a moment and brushed the front of my opening. The teasing was driving me crazy. I needed to feel him inside of me. I need to be full of him.

            “Please, Hugh,” I moaned louder.

            “I need to go slow. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said in a hushed whisper.

            He pressed in slowly, easing his way in. Gently stretching me more than I thought was possible.

            “Fuck. You’re so tight. You feel fucking perfect.” He leaned down over me and whispered in my ear, “You feel like you were made for me, princess.”

            I sighed. God, he filled me. We fit together like a lock and key. He pulled out and thrusted back in as he nibbled on my neck. He slid in and out and my moans grew louder, stoking the fire within me. My moaning became uncontrollable as he continued his slow movements. My orgasm was looming as he propped himself up and looked into my eyes.    

            “I need you to come now. I want to feel you pulse all around me.” His voice was hushed. I gripped his ass, pulling him deeper and deeper with each thrust.

            “Hugh, fuck,” I yelled. “Fuck me harder!”

            He pounded into me and my orgasm washed over me as I screamed in ecstasy. I actually saw stars. I closed my eyes in an effort to hold onto the feeling of euphoria that had taken hold.

            “Let me see your eyes, Vikki,” he commanded.

            My eyes snapped open and I moved my hands from his ass to his face, scratching his wonderful beard.

            “Come for me, Hugh,” my voice tender and soft. He picked up speed again.

            “Fuck!” He yelled as he thrust in one final time.

            He hovered over me and I continued to hold his face. He leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on my lips. “Wow, Vikki. That was just, just wow.”

            I smiled up at him. He rolled over on to his back and pulled me over to him. He ran his fingers through my hair. That was the best sex of my life. We fit together perfectly. Every movement was in sync.

            He whispered, “We’re going to need more time, princess.”

            “Let’s enjoy what we have right now.” I rolled up and kissed him tenderly before laying my head back there in his arm.

            “I can live with that,” he rolled on to his side and pulled me to him, so we were spooning.

            “Let’s go clean up.” The quiet rumble of his voice in my ear sent shockwaves of need into the deepest part of me.

            I was drunk on him. His voice. His touch. I pressed my body against him, and he squeezed me tighter. He nuzzled into my neck.

            “I’m going to start a shower. Come on. Once we’re clean, we can sleep,” Hugh said as his lips pressed my cheek.

            He rolled out of bed and picked me up. I squealed as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

            “Hugh, put me down!” I laughed.

            He smiled, “I told you, princess. I’m at your service.”

            I traced the tattoo on his chest with my finger. The clock was an intricate antique clock. The detail in the shading was incredible. The words above it on his pec were written in a typewriter font.

            He put me down and started the water in the shower. We climbed into the shower stall and Hugh closed the glass door behind him. The steamy water falling over us like rain.

            Hugh was standing behind me, his fingers tracing down my shoulders sown to my fingers. He moved my hair from my neck and leaned into me, his lips trailing from my neck to my ear.

            “I’m captivated by you,” he breathed into my ear. My breathing intensified. Between the heat of his breath and the heat of the water, I thought I’d melt on the spot.

            I felt his growing desire press into my lower back. The water dripped down my body and my nipples now fully erect, sensitive to the sensation of the water. I turned to face Hugh. I ached for his lips to be on mine. I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling his forehead to mine.

            “Why do you have to live so far away?” I groaned.

            “Fate is a cruel mistress.” He slammed his mouth onto mine. His large hands held my face, his kiss showing his need for me. My hands roamed his body. I gripped his strong back as he continued to devour me. He pressed me up against the wall of the shower. Hugh broke the kiss as his hand went between my legs, gently rubbing my slit. I couldn’t articulate any words. I groaned as I dropped my head on to the clock tattoo on his chest. I had gone stupid as his fingers went in and out of me.

            “Mmm, you feel amazing,” Hugh groaned in a deep, husky tone. “You feel warm, and wet, and right. Fucking perfect.” He whispered into my ear as he nibbled it.

            I dug my nails into his shoulders. He didn’t flinch. My body responded to him on instinct. I couldn’t control the mounting desire that gripped me. Hugh removed his fingers from inside of me. I panted heavily.

            “I need to be inside of you now,” he growled. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom in here. I’m clean. Are you?”

            “Yes.” I nodded. “And I’m on the pill.” I looked into his eyes.


            Hugh’s eyes met mine, full of hunger. He claimed my lips again and lifted up one of my legs and drove into me. I broke the kiss and gasped at the fullness of him. I wrapped my arms around his neck.

            “What’s wrong?” He froze.

            “Nothing,” I said, my breathing shallow.

            “Look at me, princess. Tell me. If this is too much, I’ll stop.” He used the hand that wasn’t holding my leg up to caress my face and tilt it up so he could look at me.

            “Please don’t stop.”

            “Then tell me why you’re gripping so tight,” he said in almost a whisper.

            “It was sudden. I’m not used to you.”

            His lips curled up and he pecked my lips. “Okay. I’ll go slow. Hold on to me. Eyes here.”

His hand went down my face, then my side, then he grabbed my other leg and wrapped both legs around his waist. Hugh settled his hands under my ass.

It was like nothing I’d felt before. Not even what we had just had in the bed. I felt safe, secure. Every part of me was overwhelmed with the sensations touching me. The hot water raining down on us. The cold tile on my back. The heat of his breath on my face. The firm hands gripping my ass as if his life depended on it. His hips bucking slowly against me. Pleasure started circling my core. My breathing quickened. Nothing was going to stop this orgasm.

“I’m coming,” I roared. Ripple after ripple of ecstasy overtook my body as I pulsed around Hugh’s dick.

“Yes, princess. Come all over me,” he huffed out. “I’m close. Fuck, Vikki. You feel amazing.”

Hugh pulled his cock out of me. Hs hands tightened their grip as he yelled out my name. No man had ever yelled my name before. He rested his forehead against mine and held me against the wall. Our breathing was slowing. Hugh released my butt and I put my legs back on the ground. He pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead.

Hugh washed me gently soaping up my body and guiding me under the water. No words were needed. He cared for me and could tell that I was worn out. We got out of the shower and we climbed into bed.

Hugh laid on his back. I crawled up and laid on his chest and draped my leg over his. He

wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. I traced the tattoo on his chest again.

            “What does your tattoo mean?” I asked.

            His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “So much of my life is out of my control. This is my reminder. It’s my time. It’s my life.”

            “It’s beautiful.”

            “Thank you. Anything else on your mind? You can ask me anything you like.”

            “Why do you call me princess?” I bit my lip as I rested my head on his chest looking into his calm blue eyes.

            “Because you’re beautiful and different to any other woman I’ve ever seen. And you’re so confident. It’s different for me.” He traced the side of my face. “Why did you come back here with me?”
            I thought for a moment and smiled as I answered, “I felt like if I didn’t come with you, I was going to miss out on something special.” I bit my lip again and Hugh tucked my hair behind my ear.

            “I’ve never felt this before,” he said.

            “Me either.”

            “Let’s sleep, Vikki. You need to rest.” He pulled my head to his, kissing me tenderly.

            I pulled back. “We both do.”

            I settled into the nook of his arm. As I lay there wrapped up in Hugh, I knew twenty-four hours is nowhere near enough time. I need so much more than that. But I’m realistic. And I’m grateful for this view into perfection.

Hey There Princess-

Gossip Girl: Ranking The Show's Most Absurd Moments

As a writer of romance and erotica, I am no stranger to using pet names. Personally, I enjoy them. I love being called Honey, Mama, Baby, Sweetheart, and Princess. I have never found them to be demeaning or believed that being called any of these pet names makes me less of a woman or less capable.

I really noticed that some women have a major aversion to the use of pet names when I gave my manuscript to some of my girlfriends for a beta-read last summer. A few readers didn’t care for all of the sex in the manuscript, but the biggest complaint was how many times Henry calls Adaline “Baby.” One reader actually circled every time he called her that. When I asked my reader what she preferred, she said that Henry should call her by her name. And this friend wasn’t the only one that made the same comment.

In any story I write, I strive for a realistic story. I agonize over every word. It needs to be believable. The sex, the settings, the way the characters interact. All of it. I thought long and hard about nicknames and pet names. I paid close attention to all interactions I had with everyone. I personally call almost everyone I interact with by something other than their name. I almost never call my husband by his first name. My go-to’s are babe, baby, husband, handsome, and Gigantor (when I need him to reach something from the top shelf that I can’t reach). Most of my girlfriends get referred to as girl. And my guy friends, it varies. All of the names are meant to show familiarity. Comfort. Affection. If I don’t give you a nickname, there’s a good chance you’re not one of my favorite people.

In the South, at least in my experience, it’s very common place to be called Baby or Baby Girl. I don’t even bat an eye when someone calls me that. Once I was at the grocery store and I was trying to reach one of those foam coolers from the very top of the shelves that the paper products are on. I tried everything I could to reach the damn cooler, but I was at least two inches too short. After a few minutes and mounting frustration, a man came up to me and asked, “Baby, what do you need help reaching?” Super thick southern accent, he fit the southern guy stereotype to a tee. I told him that I couldn’t reach the cooler. He reached it for me and put it in my cart. Did he mean to treat me like a kid? Was he hitting on me? Nope. He was just being nice and used a term of endearment that made it easy for me to accept the help. And honestly, he was respectful, and I was grateful for it.

Fast forward to another situation that same summer. I was at my best friend’s house for the Fourth of July. I can’t even count how many times these two friends of mine called me Baby. Both men are very happily married, and they weren’t making a pass. It comforted me to hear them call me that. I asked one of the two why, he said that it was to show that he cared. He’d look out for me. I’m important to him. Another friend of mine calls me Elle and on very rare occasions he will call me Baby. He’s not making a pass, it’s to show that I’m different.

So, if I use nicknames with just about everyone, and they are used with me in place of my name, why were some readers so put off by it? I’m really trying to understand.

I let my sister read the short story that I wrote last week. The love interest calls the main character Princess. When I wrote it, that’s what I heard him call her. I can picture it clear as day. My sister hated it. She said it made the main character sound like a little girl and that it was just weird to her. She suggested babe, baby cakes, and baby. I shook my head. Wouldn’t those be worse?

I think that nicknames and pet names, anything other than a person’s legal given name, is meant to set them apart as a person of significance to the person using the name. That’s what I have observed. I use these names of familiarity to convey the sentiment that I feel about that person. Think about your significant other. How often do you call them by their actual name? The only time I do is when I’m really pissed off.

In my novel, Henry is going to call Adaline either Addie or Darling or Baby. And that’s because she is the love of his life. She’s different. He doesn’t call her these things because she’s not a strong woman that needs a man to take care of her. He does it show that she’s significant in his life. She stands out. She’s different. In the short story I wrote, Hugh will call Vikki Princess. Why? Because he’s never met a woman like her before and that’s an easy way to show it. And it’s a way to show it without being sexual or creepy.

Until next time,

Princess Ellie Baby

The Story That Started It All

The Story that Started it all.

My journey as a writer began when I was young. I have always had a love of books and a passion for storytelling. When I am asked what my favorite genre is, I really can’t answer that because I love a well told story. One where I can root for the protagonist and love to hate the villain. I want to see the main character beat the odds. I want to go with them on their journey. I love seeing stories reinvented. The only genres I don’t particularly go out of my way to read are science fiction and biographies, but there are great stories their, too. The Martian is one of my all-time favorites and wasn’t something I would’ve picked for myself. It was a recommended read.  

I love to teach writing in all of its forms. For years, I perfected the art of teaching essay writing to high school students. From my list of no-no words (words that if I found would result in an immediate F and the student would have to redo the essay) to teaching them to expand beyond the standard five paragraph model, writing is one of the greatest joys in my life.

One day I felt the need, yes need, to write a story down. That hadn’t happened in a very long time. It was a story about a girl that works in a bookstore. A man that frequents the store and they have chemistry. Initially Cooper was a salesman. The sparks finally create a massive flame one day after the bookstore has closed.

I had never written a sex scene before, but I had read many of them. I let the words flow out of me and I was pleasantly surprised with what was on the page. I shared it with a couple of English teacher friends, and they told me it was roughly written and needed some polish, but that it wasn’t bad. They encouraged me to make it a longer story. They wanted to know how Cooper (now Henry) and Emma (now Adaline) met. They wanted to know what happens after that saucy scene in the bookstore. And frankly, so did I.

This is where my love for Henry and Adaline began.

Here it is. Rough and a bit clunky, like most first times. This copy hasn’t been edited for copy or anything really. This is the story that began my 5-year journey to write Henry and Adaline’s story. Most of this isn’t in the final draft. It’s been rewritten, taken out, put back in and polished countless times.

Your partner should be of your height if you trying standing sex ...

One very chilly December day, Cooper called me and asked if he could come in after hours. I had mentioned to him that I was going to be reorganizing some of the sections of the store that night and that since he was so interested in the success of the store that I would appreciate an extra set of hands. He said he was glad to help and that he would bring dinner. My mind was racing with excitement. I would finally be alone with him without the possibility of interruption. During lunch that day, I ran home and changed from my jeans and turtleneck to a pencil skirt and a cardigan. I put my hair up into a bun and I touched up my makeup. When I got back to the shop, I counted the endless seconds until I could close the doors and Cooper would arrive.

When 5:30 finally rolled around, Cooper was right on time. He came in the back door of the shop, coffee in hand and locked the door behind him.

“Emma?” he called out.

“I’m up here,” I said from the top of the ladder at the stacks near the back of the store.

I could hear him walking around the store and I smiled at him when he found me on the ladder taking books off the top shelf and rearranging them.

“I brought you coffee and your list. I also found something that you might like from this amazing bookstore in Paris.”

“You really have to stop spoiling me. I’m starting to get the wrong idea about you Mr. O’Neal,” I said coyly.

I came down from the ladder and found my favorite Peppermint Mocha and a bag from Hemingway’s favorite store in Paris, Shakespeare and Company.

“How did you know I liked Peppermint Mocha?”

“I told you, paying attention to details is a huge part of my job.”

“Is this really from Shakespeare and Company?”

“Yes. Do you know about that store?”

“It was where Hemingway and the other ex-patriots would get books and did readings. I can’t believe you went there!”

“You haven’t even seen what is in the bag. Open it.”

I did as I was told and began to beam with joy when I took out the classic book that was in the bag.

Les Misérables. There is no publishing date in this copy. This is amazing. I can’t accept. It’s too much.”

“Anything that makes you smile like that should be given to you every second of every day.”

I blushed and said “Thank you. I will treasure this always. I need to get this mess picked up and all these books re-shelved. Can you hand me that copy of As You Like It from the table?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

He obliged and as he handed me the copy of the play, I made sure I was standing on the ladder in such a way that he couldn’t help but look up my skirt. He could see that I didn’t have anything on under my skirt except a garter belt holding up my stockings. I felt his intense eyes on me; looking at every inch of me and this brought a smile to my face. I tried not to let on that I knew he was eyeing me. I climbed down the ladder and he began to discuss the month’s orders.

As he talked about the possibility of getting his hands on the books he thought I needed, I could hardly concentrate. His gaze was fixed on me. His icy blue eyes darting from my eyes to my lips and back up. I found it difficult to keep eye contact with him. I didn’t want him to know that I had this deep desire to feel his hands all over my body. It had been so long since I had been with a man that I connected with and I wanted this one. I wanted to taste him. As I attempted to shake these thoughts, I told him that his plan of attack sounded great and I asked him to hand me some more books so that I could put them on the upper shelves.

As I climbed up the ladder, I wasn’t terribly careful to make sure that my skirt stayed down as I went up the ladder.

“I knew you had a fun side that had nothing to do with dancing,” said Cooper as he climbed up the ladder right behind me and handed me the book.

“It’s easy when I have someone to have fun with. You shouldn’t have underestimated me,” I snapped back.

As he came back down the ladder, he placed his strong hand on my outer thigh and let it go down until he touched my skin. My breathing quickened as I felt how soft his touch was. I froze and let out a sigh. He took that as a sign to keep going with what he wanted to do to me.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

“No. You’re just fine.”

When I got close to the bottom of the ladder, he turned me around so that we were facing each other. He was much taller than me, and the step that I was on allowed us to be eye to eye.

“I like to look at the things I want to have, and I want to have you now,” he said. His intense eyes made it nearly impossible for me to look away. I grabbed his face and a kissed him. I melted from the heat of the kiss. I threw my arms around him, but he grabbed my arms and held them above me head on the ladder. He held them with one hand and lifted my tight red cardigan and felt the lacy bra with his other hand.

He began to devour me. He pressed against me and kissed every inch of my neck and I moaned in ecstasy. It had been so long since a man tasted me. I let him keep going as his free hand pulled up my skirt to my waist.

“Don’t move,” he breathed into my ear. I nodded.

I watched him step back and undo his pants. He pulled a condom out of his pocket and torn the foil packet, quickly covering himself. I bit my lip. He pulled my leg up and my legs apart and thrusted into me. I moaned as his enormous dick filled me. He held my leg up as he pounded into me. Not once breaking eye contact. He stopped and pulled my legs around his waist and carried me to the counter behind him.

Once my ass was on the counter, he began pounding again. I couldn’t contain my orgasm any longer and just as I climaxed, he grabbed my waist, pushed himself as deep as he could go and he climaxed also. As soon as he let go, he rested his forehead on mine. Cooper brushed my hair out of my face and said, “That was amazing.” I smiled back and said, “yes it was.”

We sat for a few minutes basking in what had just taken place; knowing that we had crossed a line and could never go back. He held my small delicate hands in his large hands. I brushed his hair back and gently kissed his forehead. He stood up and helped me off the counter. We both readjusted our clothes and Cooper left the bookstore. I sat there satisfied and smiling.

Thanks for reading-

Until next time, stay sexy and curious y’all,


The First Rule About Sex is We Don’t Talk About Sex

I’m a naturally curious person. If I don’t know something, I’ll ask. Normally, people will answer my questions. But when it comes to sex questions, people aren’t as forthcoming.

Why do we so weirded out when it comes to discussing sex? Why are we embarrassed to talk about it? I’m guilty of this myself. I have three girlfriends that I can talk to about it. But the majority of my friends refuse to talk about it at all. I have one friend in particular that’s a bit further along life’s path than I am. I look to her as an older sister; someone to teach me about what comes next. When I asked her about how things change with sex as we get older, her response was “We don’t talk about such things. That’s private.” I didn’t push her, but all I could think about was “Why can’t we talk about it. It’s not illegal or wrong.”

My mom caught me when I was in the fourth or fifth grade playing with my Barbies and I had them naked on top of each other. She was mortified. At the time, I had no idea why. Now that I’m a mom I get it. I’d handle it differently, but I get her embarrassment and shock. When she asked me what they were doing, I said, very matter of fact, “They are having sex.” My mother’s response was, “You’re too young to play like that and sex is something that happens between a husband and wife. It’s beautiful.” That was the extent of the sex talk or any advice I would get from my mother.

Now, I am not saying that I want to have an in-depth and super detailed talk with my mom about sex, but it would have been nice to be able to get some explanations of the mechanics and the emotions that go along with it from the person that’s supposed to be my guide as I grow up. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom and admire her. Sex just isn’t something we talk about. Like many, I learned those things from my friends. Why is it so weird? Because sex is like Fight Club. And the first rule of Fight Club, or sex, is that we don’t talk about it.

Everyone does it, so why all the secrecy?

It’s not always some magical, beautiful experience, like my mom said. Sometimes is fast. Sometimes is dirty. Sometimes it’s rough. Sometimes it’s tender and gentle. But it’s always the most intimate thing that two people can do together. Maybe we don’t talk about it because it is so intimate. Intimacy and vulnerability make people uncomfortable. And if we talk about it, we may get judged by others about what we like and how we like it.

I get it. People have different thoughts about sex. Some are more adventurous than others. Some are curious. Some do it for procreation. Now, I’m not saying we should all go around and talk about the kink we are into or not into, but I am saying we should find someone that we can talk to about it.

But shouldn’t this person be your partner or spouse? Absolutely. Sex is ultimately about the connection with your spouse or partner. They should tell you, by either showing you or telling you, what they like, and you should to the same. But here’s the thing. What if I have a girl question? Like how to give a better blow job. My husband can’t answer that for me. I mean he could tell me what he wants, but as far as actual technique, that’s what the girls are for.

Erotica was the gateway that led me to my small group of women I can talk sex with. One series I read brought up hot, dominant sex and the main love interest was the owner of a sex club. A sex club that no one was allowed to talk about. Another series talked about a man that was the best high-end escort in London. Again, his hard and rough services were something no one in the books were allowed to talk about. These two series opened the door for me to have open and honest conversations about sex with two of my best girlfriends.

We have talked about toys and positions. We’ve talked about role play, orgasms. You name it, we’ve talked about it. Without judgment. And I am grateful for them and the information we have exchanged. I’m sure our husbands appreciate it as well.

There are some things, that I am hesitant to ask them about though. And, even though I know I can ask them anything, I worry about being weird. And that is where the internet has come in handy. No, I’m not talking about porn. I’m talking about women the write about the stuff we want to know more about but are embarrassed to ask.

One article that led to follow a blog about sex was “The Lazy Girl’s Guide to Incredible Blow Jobs.” I mean, who doesn’t want to know how to do this better or make it more enjoyable for both people? It wasn’t the first article I have friend by my twitter friend Jaimee, but it was one that helped give me more confidence in that aspect of my sexual relationship with my husband. Her topics also include female masturbation, which has always been something I have been uncomfortable discussing. Which is beyond stupid because we all do it. Yep, I’m talking to you, too. Yeah, you- the one who says you never touch yourself. I denied doing it, too, up until recently.

So, here’s the nugget of information I want you to learn today. Find someone you can talk sex with.  Ask your freaky, kinky questions to. And most importantly, talk with your partner. Don’t be weird about your sex preferences or desires or even fantasies with them. Their answers may surprise you. It will unlock a whole new world of intimacy and fun with your favorite person in the world.

Until next time- stay sexy and curious.

Love y’all,


Feelings are stupid

I strictly adhere to the rule “write what you know.” Research is a critical part of my writing process. If I don’t know about a topic, I read. I ask questions and dig until my quest for knowledge is satisfied. That’s what lead me to this blog post.

I’ve read my share of erotica and what I’ve learned is this: there a large amount of women that desire the alpha male. Most of us, myself included, want a man to protect us. Care for us. Be loyal to us. Satisfy us intellectually and sexually. Fuck us hard but love us tenderly. For the most part, the men in erotica and romance novels are alpha males. Dominant. Bossy as hell. Arrogant. Protective. Caring. No touchy feelings. They know what they want and how they want it. They are men through and through.  Here’s a secret that I have learned reading erotica told from the male perspective: we want them to have a soft, vulnerable side, too. Maybe they only show it to us, but it’s there.

I think with my heart. Sometimes my emotions get the best of me. I cry. I’m very feminine. I know how to write a woman, because I am one. The more I edit and read Adaline, the main character of my novel, the more I notice that her and I have a lot of things in common. Her hang ups and insecurities are some of mine. Henry, her love interest, is another story. I have no clue where to even start with him, at least what’s going on in his head.

One of the points my beta readers made was that Henry needed to be stronger. He needed to be more dominant. And sure, he’s a dominant guy. Outwardly confident. But he’s sweet, caring, and compassionate. Henry is attentive and thoughtful.  In my mind, he’s all of the alpha things. On paper, that didn’t translate. I didn’t want him to come off as a domineering asshole. I wanted the Henry I fell in love with to shine through. (Yes, I’m in love with a character I made up). I needed to get in his head, which led to so many questions to the men in my life.

The first time I realized this was when I read the novel Leave Me Breathless by Jodi Ellen Malpas. Typical bodyguard, but we hear his side. He is afraid. He has hang-ups. He has a daughter. He wants to fix Hannah, his love interest, and protect her, but not because of some male-macho bullshit. It’s because he cares. Because he loves her. Because he’s afraid. Read that again, the big macho alpha is afraid. And not fear of dying because of some battle or life or death situation. He’s afraid because he might lose the girl. The girl that means everything to him, changed everything for him. He’s afraid of failing her and people that count on him. This is something I know, personally as a fear of my own. Ladies work hard to wear the right things, say the right things, act a certain way so as not to lose the man they are working to keep.

I was fascinated. Was this a norm? Do men really feel this way? I had to read more. That’s when I found Sybil Bartel.

Ms. Bartel has written many erotica novels from the male perspective. And guess what? They’re afraid, too. Her novels revolve around ex-military bodyguards. Men that know how to use fear for their life to their advantage. I’m about halfway though her entire body of work and they are all undone by a woman. Undone by fear of losing the woman that has won their heart. The heroes of her books are military. They know how to handle themselves in dangerous situations (and her books are filled with crazy, dangerous situations). However, their focus is compromised on taking the danger out, because they have feelings for a woman. She’s no longer a client. She a woman who’s opinion about them matters.

This brought up more questions. Is this bullshit or do men really have these feelings? Do they really think this way? Is that what the alpha behavior is about? Fear of loss?

I asked the men in my life about this. And truthfully, I got responses I didn’t expect. Yes, some men have no desire to be an alpha. They aren’t made to be that way. Some men, though, act like cavemen not because they want to beat their chest at us and be in control. They want to impress us. They want to ensure that we are attracted to them, even though they may outwardly act like it’s not a big deal how we feel about them. They do it because they don’t want their women to leave. They have a healthy amount of fear. Fear is what keeps us from risking what we love.

I asked one man in my life about this specifically. He’s extremely dominant. He has a commanding presence. He’s actually a bit intimidating because he’s got such an intense stare. The kind of stare that actually feels like he’s looking at your soul. I asked if he, as an alpha, felt that alphas can be sensitive. He told me of course, why couldn’t they be? His answer surprised me because he’s not a very emotional man. He let his guard down for me enough to ask a sensitive question. This made him more endearing to me. We had a good talk about how men feel the same things that women do, they just express them differently. He also told me that the only thing he was really afraid of losing was his wife.

Personally, I don’t want a caveman. I want a man that will take over when I’m too tired to make decisions for me. I want a man that respects me but knows how I like to be treated in the bedroom. Sometimes soft and tender and other times I want to be fucked hard. I’m so lucky to have found a man that does just that. I like when he acts like a caveman, because it tells me he loves me. I love his assertion when I’m difficult. I also adore when he’s vulnerable and says he can’t lose me.

So what have I learned? I learned that men and women really aren’t that different. Mars vs. Venus is bullshit. We express ourselves and our emotions differently, but we feel the same things. Both genders get butterflies when they meet someone that they find attractive. Both genders fear losing the one that matters the most. We all want to be desired. We all worry that we aren’t enough.

This picture was taken last summer when I was out with the girls in Nashville. I’m stupid for a good set of muscular arms. The guy is a bouncer at one of the bars we went to and he reminded me of Jake, a character in my novel. The girls encouraged me to get a picture with him. I asked him if I could feel his arm. He smiled and flexed. The girls snapped this picture. Did he feel flattered?. Did that make his night? Maybe. The smirk on his face tells me he did. Knowing what I know now, it probably did because that’s how I felt. He may not have shown that outwardly, because guys don’t.

Emotions are universal. Much love to y’all. Thanks for reading.

Does Size Really Matter?

I hope I got your attention with that title. No, this isn’t going to be a post about penis size and if women like them bigger. Sorry to disappoint you. This post is about sexiness, sexuality and size.

I used to be a very heavy girl. VERY heavy. Like 300 pounds heavy. I had bariatric surgery 5 years ago. It was my last chance after trying everything else. (No, it’s not the easy way to lose weight. That’s a whole other blog post). I lost over 110 pounds. I’m not at the goal weight set by the doctor, I don’t think I’ll ever hit that weight. But I’m healthy and I feel amazing. I run between 3-6 miles several days a week and I lift heavy. I’m not saying this to brag, I can just remember when those tasks seemed impossible due to my physical size.

I never felt like I was one of the pretty girls. I think it’s probably better to say I definitely wasn’t one of them. I didn’t have guys asking me out and I didn’t feel good about myself. I was afraid to own who I was. I was terrified to own my body. I’d never be skinny like a super model, even a plus sized one. Women in my family, and Latinas in general, just aren’t. We aren’t built that way. Women with my body type weren’t featured in movies, magazines. And if they were, they were the comic relief, never the love interest. Always the fat friend, never the main squeeze. It happened in books, too.

I remember an event that solidified this “thin girls are sexy girls” mentality for me. When the weight really started to creep on, I went into a very popular women’s lingerie store for some lingerie. I was feeling good and wanted to surprise my now husband, then fiancé, with something special for Valentine’s Day. When I walked in the store, I wasn’t greeted by the salesperson. After looking around for a while, I finally asked for help. What she said to me shaped me for the next 15 years of my life. She said that she was sorry, but they didn’t carry my size. She said I’d have to go to the plus-sized store, which, at the time, sold things that were far from sexy. The sales person never asked my size. She never asked to take my measurements. Nothing. I had shopped at another one of their stores a couple months before and I had no trouble finding my size. I was humiliated. I was dismissed. I was devastated.

I am guilty of writing that way myself. When I started my current manuscript, Adaline Jackson was initially a small framed, skinny girl. Why? Because that’s what I was taught was attractive. That’s what was sexy. I was so wrong.

Sexy is an attitude. A state of mind. It’s being confident in your own skin. A dear friend of mine gave me this ridiculous sparkly princess cup for my 40th birthday. It says FEARLESS on it. In the card that went with it, he wrote that I was forty, fearless, and fabulous. I told him the only thing I true about that statement was that I was 40. I’ll never forget his response, “No, baby. You’re the most fearless and fabulous woman I know.” He gave me a wink. It felt like a dare.

The year I turned 40, I decided I wouldn’t let him down. I wanted to live up to the title of fearless. I joined the gym. I ran a half marathon. I wrote with abandon. And I did the bravest thing I have done to date. What started as a gift to my husband, became a one of the greatest gifts I could give myself. A boudoir shoot.

I was nervous. Remember my last post about good girls and sex? Good girls most definitely didn’t take pictures in their underwear or less. My friend took the pictures. I went all out. Hair, make-up, costume changes. I was pretty uptight at first, but my friend began pouring the wine and I loosened up. She took well over 200 pictures.

I anxiously waited for her to edit them and get them back to me. I was blown away when I saw the pictures. I was expecting to be grossed out by what I saw. But instead, I saw a beautiful woman. A sexy woman with a great smile and beautiful eyes that saw beauty in everything around her. I saw a confident woman. I saw a fearless woman. Was she petite and easily tossed about? Nope. Her legs are powerful. Her hips move mountains. I was proud of that woman that looked back at me in those images.

After that, I decided to make Adaline curvy and thick. She’s in excellent shape, but she’s not skinny. She is strong. Those are things that are sexy, too. That is something being 190 pounds has taught me. I’m thick. I have a large ass and curves for days. I feel sexy and powerful. I feel confident. If a confidence is the thing, I find the most attractive, I bet it’s the same the other way around.

The lesson that I hope to impart is this, and it’s based on my own personal experience, sexiness and beauty have nothing to do with size. It’s an attitude. It’s belief in yourself. It’s owning your body. It’s self-worth. It’s not being ashamed to ask for what you want.

So, if you need someone to tell you, I am happy to be that person:

You’re beautiful. You’re sexy. And you look fucking amazing!